


And they have escaped the weight of darkness

by Marsali



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: EWE, M/M, architect!harry, blind date taken to a new level, hermione is not so ethical with her potions, honestly, screw the houses, screwy potions science, slightly ooc characters probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:49:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8093941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marsali/pseuds/Marsali
Summary: Severus has agreed to do something mad. To go on a blind date. And to make sure he will give his date a real chance, he is going to take a potion that lets him forget everything about the person he is going to meet. He should have known who it was ...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on FF.net in 2011

**Chapter 1**  
_Mad, idiotic, moronic and unacceptable  
_

* * *

I should not have agreed to do this. This was madness. Like … No. There was no other word for this. It was mad. Insane. Altogether unacceptable. Alright fine, obviously there were synonyms available, but I was the master of eloquence, if I said so myself, and the prospect of what I was going to do in a mere hour called for some variety. Because what was going to take place left me … lost in some way. I was out of my depth. Entirely. Possibly irrevocably, because really … A blind date?

Why, by Merlin's grace, had I chosen to do this? I must have lost my mental capabilities. That was the only conclusion I could draw out of my standing in front of the mirror in my rooms at Hogwarts, wearing clothing I had just purchased yesterday at the urging of none other than Hermione Granger and feeling stupid and, which was even more stupid … excited. I was excited, with a heart that hammered as though it wanted to set a record and hands that were clammy. Good grief, I had _clammy_ hands. What respectable wizard in his even more respectable forties had clammy hands, because of a _date_? None, since my standards for respectability were of a significantly high volume and probably ruled out most of mankind. And now … me too. Severus Snape did not have clammy hands. Period. Even the word sounded moronic. Whenever I thought it, all I saw was a toddler holding up his small hands, proclaiming they were clammy in his high pitched voice. Moronic. Daft. _Homely_. Like myself, because my hands were clammy. This, by my own definition, made me all of those things, too.

I did not like the feeling of this. I was an accomplished potions master. Some even said the best of the whole of Great Britain. Possibly even Ireland, if you didn't take the person (and I used this word very loosely) into account that brewed his potions in a cave. I didn't count him in. Like I said, my guidelines for respectable people were strict.

But, as I had already mentioned, I was a … veritable man. In my own way at least. Not every person in the world could be veritable and sage in the standardized way of Albus Dumbledore. Most lacked the beard. As did I. Nobody wanted to see me with a beard. Myself included. But what I was trying to say was: Albus Dumbledore may have been the epitome of wisdom and council. What many people didn't see was that they thought him to be those things (even though they were true to some degree) because of the way he had looked. Old. Brittle, but with a glow that came from the inside and told the world that he was strong and should only be underestimated by people with a death wish. The books in his office had told about his knowledge, the unidentifiable objects in his study about his genius. Albus could have worn a robe that displayed the words "I'm with stupid" like those muggle t-shirts I had seen in London. The damned old coot would have gotten away with it.

Me, on the other hand? I didn't give people the impression that it would be unwise to underestimate me. They simply didn't, out of fear that I might kill them anyway. It was not an inaccurate thought. Even the most respectable men had urges at times. If mine were slightly more … bloody than others it just showed my superior … uniqueness. Singularity. Inimitability.  
I had a significant amount of books too, but it would certainly be unwise to let others take a closer look at them. Like I said: urges. Let us leave it at that.  
Concerning curious items, well … I had a collection of cauldrons. And knives. Which, combined with my urges and the books about urges and people getting the right idea about said urges from time to time didn't make that great of a combination. At least, not a welcoming one. By looking at my life and the way I lived it, nobody felt encouraged to take a closer look. Let alone share it with me.

But back to the topic at hand. A matter of great importance. A blind date. For which I had purchased a muggle suit, simply because Hermione, who I would never call so to her face, thought I would look good in one. Good. Fine. Nice. Maybe even handsome. A ridiculous notion, or so I had thought. But as I was standing here, in front of the mirror, I had to admit that she could be right. I did look those things. Maybe even the last one. It was a black suit with a narrow cut that clung to my slight frame but didn't impair my ability to move. The shirt underneath it was white with black buttons. Hermione had insisted I wear no tie. Her reasoning had been, well … She had said that my chest hair peeking out when the top buttons were undone looked … delectable. I had never seen it that way, but I had decided to trust her with the matter. As I had trusted her to arrange a date with someone that she thought I would like. And who, in return, would find my company pleasant as well.

I sighed, turning from side to side, looking at myself from all possible angles. It had been a long time since I had last worn something else than a robe. It felt liberating in a way but at the same time I felt exposed, too. Should the date prove to be disastrous I would not be able to make an impressive departure that included billowing robes. I regretted that. It was one of my specialties. I reckoned I would look like any other person whose date had gone wrong. Unsure. Self-conscious. Maybe even _sad_ , for Merlin's sake. I was sure I would be able to throw a thunderous expression on my face and make my suitor at least a little bit uncomfortable for rejecting me, but at the same time glad, because I knew what my darkest expressions looked like. Anyone that hadn't liked me, when I was on my best behavior would not be reformed by me pulling faces at him.

But, as Hermione had said, this was not the time to think about how I would look during a possible rejection. This was the time to care about my looks during what could turn out to be the best date of my life. Her words not mine. And since twenty-odd years of spying and trying my best to be the most hateful bastard earth had ever seen, had done nothing to improve my people skills or had left me any time to think about a way to improve my wardrobe, Hermione had taken matters in her hands. Tiny hands. Scary hands. _Capable_ hands. She had behaved as though she had been possessed. I had been dragged into every, to her promising, to me menacing, clothing store and together we had picked out a few things. Trousers, shirts, pullovers … And this suit. She had insisted that I do something with my hair too, but I had drawn the line at that. I had washed and combed it. That had to be enough.

It didn't feel enough, though. The last time I had been on a real date, I had been fifteen and Lily hadn't known it was a date, which made it all a moot point. I had no dating experience. I might as well admit that, since I already felt raw. It was ridiculous. I knew how to kill people in abundant ways, but the thought of having a date actually frightened me.

It was not about the sex.

I knew how people looked at me. With their thoughts so obvious on their faces. Many thought I had never had sex in my life. They were wrong. There may not have been a great amount of it and certainly none that mattered, but I wasn't self-conscious about my sexual prowess.

No, I felt utterly clueless regarding intimacy. Talking, getting to know each other, kissing, stroking, holding each other like it's all that matters. At least that was what I imagined having a lover would be like. What having a partner would be like. I was afraid that I would not be able to fill the silence between conversations with something fitting. That I would turn out to be … lacking in yet another aspect of everyday life. Potions were easy. They followed rules. They were predictable. People were not. I could come up with probability calculations once I had noticed a certain behavioral pattern, but that was no good, since people had a penchant for twisting and turning and showing different sides at unpredictable moments.

I shook my head violently to escape this idiotic train of thought. I had been a good spy in the war. Assessing human beings and the odd vampire had been my job. I had proven myself to be talented at it. I could cope with a date. I _would_ cope with a date. Damned, if I gave in!

If it were a normal blind date, I would probably be able to hold myself together. The problem was that this was going to be anything but.

Hermione Granger had been my colleague for two years. In those years, she had proved to me not only her expertise in anything charms related, but had also grown to be my … friend. I was unsure how this had happened. Her mind was a challenging thing and she had probably seen that, if she wanted the most mentally stimulating debate she could have at Hogwarts, she would have to talk to me. Hermione Granger usually got what she wanted. And I had found her pleasantly refreshing myself, even more so, since she had asked my advice on a potion she had been dabbling on for some time. A weekend project, she had said. Ha. It had been so much more than that. It was a groundbreaking invention that had gotten her a whole article in "Potions Weekly" as well as many interviews. She called it the Excaecare Potion, which, if you translated it, meant "blinding". It was a misleading name, but she had insisted it was pure genius. The potion did not blind the drinker in a physical sense. If you added a body part of another person, a hair or something similar, and drank it you would forget everything you had previously known about said person. It would be as if you had never met them before in your life. If I were to drink the potion with a hair from, for example Hermione in it, I would not remember her. At least, not in person. I would probably still recognize her name from the potions article I had read about the Excaecare Potion and from the times she was in the newspaper because of the war. But no personal memories whatsoever.

She insisted that I took it tonight. The reason was obvious, as she had set up this date with a person she insisted to remain unnamed until I had met them. She said we would hit it off, if we gave it the chance. Which of course meant I knew them. And that I probably wasn't very fond of them too. Or they of me. My worries were obviously not without foundation, which made the whole matter even worse.

I sighed deeply and started pacing around the room, waiting for Hermione to bring me the potion. This could go wrong on so many levels. What if I woke up tomorrow and found myself deeply in love with Mundungus Fletcher? That would not be acceptable. If something like that was going to be the case, I would not leave my rooms ever again. At least not, after I killed both Hermione and Fletcher. The only good thing here was that the potion would leave my system after about twelve hours. Twelve hours of "blindness" concerning a person. From a scientific view this was fascinating. But I wasn't a lab rat, was I? There was no enjoyment in this for me. And if there was any, it would probably be gone the moment I woke up and was able to think clearly again.

A knock snapped me out of my reverie and I crossed the way to the door with a few long strides. I opened it and found myself face to face with the person that had put me in my current state.

"Hi, Severus. Are you still freaking out?" Hermione Granger said with an annoyingly chipper voice and bullied her way into the room by elbowing me in the arm. Her curly hair was done up in a ponytail and her eyes were actually sparkling. She was amused. Amused by my demise. How fitting.

"Even if I were, it would be totally understandable. Considering the circumstances", I answered smoothly.

Of course I didn't fool her. She cocked one eyebrow. "Oh, really? Why are you fiddling with the sleeves of your suit then?"

I almost flinched as she called me on this nervous habit and ceased the motion I had been unaware of doing immediately. There was no need for her to be so perceptive, so why had she developed this character trait? It was possible she had done it simply to annoy me. Annoy, infuriate, agitate.

"I did no such thing", I said defiantly and looked darkly at her. She had the audacity to snort.

"Right. You are a nervous wreck and don't even try to deny it. I can look right through you."

"Of course you can." If my tone was sarcastic, it was intended that way.

Hermione grinned at me and pulled a vial out of the pocket of her dark blue robe. The content of it had the color of amber, not unlike whisky. This was it. Blindness for twelve hours. Freshly brewed and bottled. Through the haze of feeling unwell, I could still appreciate the beauty in this.

"So, there it is. Your future!" Hermione cajoled and shook the bottle a little bit. To emphasize, probably. I felt uneasy.

"Are you sure you should shake it that way?"

She let out an impatient growl and narrowed her eyes at me. It seemed I had overstepped an invisible boundary that had marked her patience, endurance, longanimity.

"There is nothing explosive in there, Severus! You know that! Stop being so stupidly skittish about this! Everything will be fine."

I closed my eyes for a second and sighed in order to regain my bearings. Hermione was right. I was acting illogical. When I looked up, something in her face had changed. Had made it softer and, in a way, understanding. She licked her lips and smiled in a crooked way.

"You know that, right? Everything is going to be okay. You'll see. Or do you honestly think I would pair you off with somebody totally unsuited to you? Don't you trust me in this?"

I shook my head. "Of course you had to make this about you, Granger."

She laughed. "That's right. All of this is only for me. You are doing me a favor. If it makes it easier for you, you can see this as the one last testing phase of the potion. Who would be more equipped to make sure that everything is in order, than you? And tomorrow you can wake up, take some notes of what you experienced and who knows? Maybe you will have the start of a new relationship right in front of you."

She stepped closer to me and laid one of her unusually small hands on my upper arm. As irrational as her words were and even though we both knew that this wasn't about testing a potion that had already been approved of by the council anyway, it … helped.

"And you know, Severus? This guy I am setting you up with … You did say that you don't care about gender, right? Because I don't want you to have a freak out. Well, more of a freak out than …"

"Gender is of no consequence to me", I interrupted her. There was no need to linger on my being uncomfortable.

"Okay. Well, this guy … he has had a rough time, too. People don't see him for the person he is and …", she sighed. "I guess, I just want to say that he knows how it feels to be singled out, okay? I mean, there is probably nobody out there that fully understands what you have been going through your whole life, but … I just … I am sure that he will be able to relate."

She tightened her hold of my arm. The warmth of her hand started to seep through the fabric of my suit and it felt oddly calming.

"Just give this a chance, will you? I think you're going to be good for each other. Spectacularly so. Try it. And if I was wrong, you don't have to repeat this after today. Does that sound tolerable?"

I nodded and straightened to my full height and Hermione took the cue for what it was and let go of me. I was as ready as I would ever be. I would give it a chance. I was tired of being lonely. And Hermione was a good judge of character, as long as she had all the relevant facts. In this case, I believed she did.

"Give it to me, then", I demanded and she snorted, probably due to my imperious tone. But she did not comment. I shot her a glare.

She pulled a face at me and more or less shoved the vial in my outstretched hand. It was warm, because she had held it for such a long time. Warmth was of no significance. The potion would work either way. Hot, cold, lukewarm, cool … It did not matter.

Hermione pursed her lips and her eyes darted expectantly between me and the vial. I let the corners of my mouth curl into an unpleasant expression and uncorked my downfall. I sniffed at the potion, since it was supposed to smell like the person whose part it contained. It smelt like oranges and something musky. Something more primal. Distinctively male. It was … agreeable.

With nothing left to stall me I said: "Cheers" in the most ironic tone I could muster and gulped the potion down. All I could taste were oranges.

* * *

I had no way of making sure the potion had actually worked. Not until I met the person my brain had been forced to forget. It had to be a strange feeling, I mused. To know that you ought to know the person in front of you, but still not being able to remember …  
I had faith in Hermione's skills. As I had grudgingly admitted to her when she started working on this project, she had been, after Draco Malfoy of course, the most able student I had had in years. She had been needlessly smug about this revelation. In hindsight, I should probably not have told her. Maybe I would not be in this mess then.

But there was no use in dwelling on past mistakes now. I was on my way to my first date that could actually be described as such. Hopefully, at least. My faith in this mysterious person that was supposed to emphasize with me and my past was not of enormous proportions. I was still skeptical, despite Hermione's reassurances. I would believe it, the moment I saw it with my own eyes. It seemed to be too good to be true.

We would meet in an Italian restaurant in muggle London. We all had agreed that this would give me and my date the bonus of even more anonymity. Hermione had reserved a table for us. I was standing in front of the building now, unable to just do the reasonable thing and walk in. It was a small restaurant. Cozy, I guessed. The exterior was made out of dark wood and somebody had installed chains of lights at the entrance. The restaurant also had a small terrace and I could hear the murmur of the guests that resided there at the moment. It was August, so it was warm enough to sit outside. It was a nice enough place. Even though the name of the establishment ( _Tony's_ ) didn't leave me in the dark in regards to the imagination of the owner. But I guessed, that was just as well.  
I usually didn't think about such trivial things as restaurants. The Leaky Cauldron would have been an adequate location for me too. But it had been pointed out to me that I obviously had to lack brains if I really thought so. After that, I had kept my thoughts to myself and let Hermione and _The Stranger_ arrange everything. It didn't sit entirely well with me, to be so utterly out of control, but what could I do? I had agreed to this. That had been my first mistake. The following ones seemed tiny and unimportant in comparison.

I raised my arm to look at my wristwatch. Thankfully, I had arrived too soon, so that I would be right on time, if I were to enter the restaurant at this instant. I did not have patience with any form of tardiness and did not want to give my date the impression that I did. I steeled myself against every probability that could occur and that I, of course, had thought through throughout the course of this day, and made to enter _Tony's_.

Inside, I could make out the voices of many people. It was obvious that this restaurant was well frequented, which gave me the hope that the food would not be unbearable. The music that I could hear was, though Italian, not annoying so far. I counted that in as a good thing, too.

A waiter stood behind a kind of reception and, attentively, directed his gaze at me.

"Can I help you, sir?"

I lifted an eyebrow, but refrained from answering in a sarcastic manner.

"Reservation for Granger?" I asked him entwined my hands behind my back.

His eyebrows lifted in a manner that I recognized as surprised. He looked me up and down which made me narrow my eyes at him. What was this supposed to mean?

"Of course, sir. Your … guest has already arrived. Let me show you the table", he said and indicated to follow him.

This also explained the inane look he had given me. Obviously, he found me to be lacking, compared to the man I was going to meet in mere seconds. I proceeded to shoot daggers at the back of the man as I followed him. He was a waiter. He did not have the right to assess me. But that, as it was the case for so many other people, had not stopped him. And it had reminded me that I generally did not like people. What a happy note to start this evening!

The vile (scurvy, villainous and downright ghoulish) waiter and I moved past quite a few tables that were thankfully not decorated with red and white checked table cloths, before we came to a halt and I found myself eye to eye with a man that had the most ridiculous hair I had ever seen. I blinked. He grinned. And all I could think about was the fact that I did not have any potions on me for the very probable possibility of having a heart attack right now.

 

* * *

 **Chapter 2**  
_Amused, elated, joyful, happy  
_

* * *

 

The man (my _date_ ) stood up and held out his hand to me while the waiter disappeared without saying anything further.

"Hi. I'm Harry Potter. Nice to meet you. Or … more like meet you again. Or something." He grinned in a sheepish way, his green eyes sparkling (sparkling!) in a mischievous way that reminded me of Albus Dumbledore. Which was a bad thought to have right at the moment, so I banned it from my mind and additionally forbade it to return ever again.

He was wearing a suit, not unlike mine, but had opted for an equally black shirt. He was shorter than me, but broader. Sturdier. Handsome. I sighed internally.

"Severus Snape. Pleased to make your acquaintance", I said and shook the proffered hand.

His eyes lit up even more, the corners of his eyes crinkled and the grin turned into something out worldly that made my heart stutter and remind me again of heart diseases. They ran in the family after all. I raised an eyebrow, silently demanding an explanation for his curious reaction. Harry licked his lips and nodded to the chair on the opposite of his, as he decided to sit down. I took the invitation for what it was and settled down myself.

"You speak very formally", he said while leaning back a little bit.

"I fail to see why this was the cause for your previous reaction", I stated and was surprised when the smile broke out on his face again.

"Most people don't. I just … oh, hell. I just like it, when people speak that way. It makes me … cheerful, if you will. Happy. I don't know. It's not too weird, is it?" His face contorted into an unsure expression and he looked at me questioningly.

"Since it drew a favorable reaction out of you, I see no reason for it to be 'too weird'", I answered, my lips stretching into a thin smile. Who would have thought?

"That's good, then. Also, since I'm already embarrassing myself, I think your voice is really great."

I inclined my head as a way of thanking him. "Are you saying this, because you would like to hear me compliment you in return?"

"No. Not at all. Though it would help, I guess. I'm really nervous about all this." He gestured vaguely at the things surrounding him and I relaxed a bit. Was he always so open? I could only wonder. It had never been easy for me to show my emotions and this man in front on me seemed to do it with so much readiness. It was probably a good thing. At least one of us would be able to say what he felt, when he felt it.

"If that is the case, let me assure you, that I find you to be very aesthetically pleasing. Especially your eyes, if I may say so. Though, your hair is a bit of a … marvel to me", I added dryly and, in doing so, drew a laugh out of him, which made me say something more. "I like your laugh as well."

"Aw, that is nice. The hair … well. It does what it wants and I let it. It has a life of its own. Nobody messes with 'The Hair'", he said, making exclamation marks with his fingers.

I found myself to be amused. Elated, joyful, _happy_. This was actually a nice start for a date. Harry did not seem to be put off by me at all. He looked to be the opposite, if anything.

Before I could reply, a waiter (a different one) came to our table.

"Have you chosen something to drink?" he asked us politely.

"White wine, please", Harry said. "Whatever you have, as long as it's not too dry."

The waiter nodded and turned to look at me.

"Red wine. Cabernet sauvignon, if you have it", I ordered, without great hopes of actually getting my preferred choice of wine.

"I will be back shortly. Meanwhile let me give you the menu."

The menus he handed us were leather-bound and kind of heavy. Fancy.

As soon as the waiter had left to retrieve our beverages, Harry turned to give me a surreptitious look.

"He hasn't got an Italian accent."

"Oh, dear. I never even noticed." I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, shut up!" Harry said and swatted his hand in my direction, as if to hit me. "I just like restaurants to be authentic. I know this must sound kind of racist, but … if I go to an Italian restaurant, I want Italian people to work there."

"Maybe he is Italian, but has lived his entire life in England. His complexion suggests a southern origin."

"Checked him out, did you?" Harry playfully accused and regarded me with narrowed eyes.

"Definitely not. I looked at him and noticed a few things while doing so."

"Sounds a lot like checking out to me."

"You are wrong. And I already expressed my opinion of your looks. If you require further compliments, you should tell me so. I will try to come up with an adequate response."

Surely it was a crime how much I enjoyed myself. It had to be. This was … I didn't know. This kind of teasing was not something I had done very often. If ever. This was flirting. I was flirting and while I did it, something warm and sparkling bubbled up my chest and made me feel intoxicated, even though I had drunk nothing but the one glass of whisky at home.

"More compliments? Hell, yes! Give them to me!" Harry demanded.

"Very well. Let me think."

His expression became scandalized. "You have to think about it? That is no good! And here I thought I had utterly bewitched you already!"

"Maybe you have and my brain is simply unable to come up with something that would do you justice", I said sarcastically.

"Oh, Severus, darling! My modesty!" Harry fanned the air in front of him with his menu, which looked utterly ludicrous.

"I do not think you possess much of that."

"Insults! This is outrageous! I want my compliments!"

I rolled my eyes, but could not keep a faint smile off my face. "We should decide what to order, before the waiter comes back."

"You just want to weasel yourself out of giving me the promised compliments", Harry grumbled, but dutifully opened his menu again.

"I do no such thing."

"You keep telling yourself that."

It was not long before the waiter returned with our drinks and took our orders as well as our menus.

"Well, cheers, I guess", Harry said and held his glass in my direction.

"Cheers." I clinked our glasses together and was pleasantly surprised to find that I had actually gotten the wine I wanted.

"So", Harry started. "You don't feel weird, right? About this?"

"To what exactly do you refer?"

Harry shrugged. "About our date. It's not like we are meeting under normal circumstances. If we were, well …"

"If we were, all of this would not go over so well", I finished for him, lowering my eyes. It did not feel too peculiar, no. Yes, I knew that I was supposed to know Harry and on some level I did. I knew he had saved us all. I also knew that, because of that, we ought to know each other rather well, since my role in the war had been a very essential one. But it did not feel like I knew him.

When I told Harry as much, he nodded.

"Yeah, you're right. It's just … I don't know, why I wouldn't like you, I guess."

"You haven't spoken to me for a long time yet. My more despicable character traits have yet to make an appearance."

Harry chuckled, but shook his head. "Maybe you're right, but … " He sighed and sent me a helpless look. "I trust Hermione. She is one of my best friends. When she asked me, if she could set me up with somebody, I didn't hesitate. Not much anyway. She knows me. She knows what I need a partner to be. So I said 'yes'. Even after she told me, I would have to take the potion, I didn't change my opinion. But it got me thinking, you know?"

I nodded. Of course, I knew. While I didn't think that Hermione knew exactly what I needed, she probably knew me better than I could fathom.

"I am a little bit afraid of waking up in the morning and feeling the urge of killing Granger, myself", I offered, to coerce him into talking once again.

He grinned and nodded. "Yeah. I feel like there has to have happened something big between us at some point. Something bad."

"It would have to have been bad, for her to go to such extreme measures", I concurred.

"Sometimes I think she only created the potion, so that she could get us together."

I raised my eyebrow. "That is a little bit self-centered, don't you think?"

Harry shrugged again and ran a hand through his already messy hair. It didn't make any difference to his hairdo.

"Maybe. I wouldn't put it past her, though. She can be very stubborn and driven if she wants something to happen badly enough."

"And you think our romantic life, or the lack thereof, is a big enough incentive for her?" I asked doubtfully.

"No. I think our happiness is."

* * *

It was not long before the waiter brought Harry his pasta al fungi and me my steak florentine. We ate in companionable silence, which I was grateful for. I did not like messy eaters and many people were not able to contain their food in their mouths while speaking. I used the time to look at Harry with an appreciation that was probably very poorly hidden. I could not help myself. Harry was nowhere near perfect. His nose was a little bit asymmetric as though it had been broken at one point. One of his teeth was crooked, but in a way that I found secretly and idiotically adorable. His manners were not impeccable but watching him eat did not put me off him. It was small things. His elbow on the table, the way he had managed to wolf down most of his food in a very limited amount of time …

"Are you staring at me?"

I lifted my eyes to his, since they had involuntarily wandered to his mouth.

"What if I were?"

"I would ask you why."

"And would you expect an answer?" I said while spearing a piece of steak with my fork.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I think that is the custom, yes."

"And you are a customary person?"

"I think you're just trying to evade my question."

"I do not. You merely said you would ask me why I was staring at you, if I answered your preceding question with a yes. Therefore I have no question to answer."

"Ha! Think you outwitted me, do you! But I won't have that! You did not answer my question! You did not say if you were staring or not."

I smiled at him. "I was staring. "

"Why?" Harry said with an impish grin.

"Because."

Harry gasped. "Oh, my god! You are one of those! Under all this sophisticated layers you are childish as hell!"

"I am not!"

"Childish, childish, childish!" Harry cheered and pointed his fork at me with emphasis.

"I plead the fifth", I said and dabbed my mouth with a napkin after I had put my cutlery down.

"Uhuh", Harry said while doing so as well.

"So … Harry. What do you do?"

"For a living?" he asked and leaned back in his chair in a casual and comfortable manner.

I inclined my head.

"I'm an architect."

My surprise must have shown very clearly on my face, because Harry let out a guffaw.

"Yeah, I know. Who'd have thought? The great Harry Potter resorts to designing houses."

"I did not know that you were active in this profession. I would have thought something like this would have been a scandal and all over the papers."

"That's the thing", Harry said in a tired way. "It would have been. And people would have demanded answers as to why I hadn't become an auror and kept saving them all day after day. That's why I let them think that I'm kind of doing nothing at the moment."

"And people let you be?"

Harry shrugged. "Most of the time."

"And other times?" I pressed, because I had the feeling there was more to the matter than Harry let on.

"Other times, well … Other times an old women hits me with her purse and tells me that I should be ashamed of myself for not protecting our community."

Harry's smile was wry, but his eyes had adorned a wistful shimmer that made me draw together my brows in irritation. As amusing the picture Harry had drawn might have looked had it to do with another person, I could not help myself and feel indignant on his behalf.

"One would think that you had already done more than you needed to."

Harry's eyes snapped to mine and he narrowed them a small fraction. "One would think so, yes."

I cleared my throat. Had I said something wrong? The uncertainty did not please me, but the fact that I was worrying about it at all managed to annoy me even more.

Harry sighed deeply and ran a hand through his messy strands. He looked tired all of a sudden. Burdened. Weighed down by an invisible force. He gazed into the distance over my right shoulder. I was not sure if I wished to know what he was seeing. I had the feeling I would not like it.

Maybe I should not have commented upon the matter. Maybe it had been to personal a thing. But if that was the case, why had he chosen to share it with me in the first place? Had it been a test? One that I had abysmally failed? Or had he simply underestimated the effect this topic would have on him? I did not know. What an infuriating condition to be in! I did not want this date to end yet. I felt, or had felt, more comfortable in the presence of this man than I had in any others. Perhaps it was the anonymity the potion provided me with, but, by Merlin, I hoped that was not the case.

The waiter came to our table and took our empty plates which shook us out of our separate musings. I was glad for it, since I had not been sure how to restart the conversation. I was still uncertain pertaining that, but at least Harry had ceased his empty staring.

"I'm sorry", Harry said with a rueful expression. "Sometimes I kind of get swept away. Maybe you know that kind of thing? When you get, in a way … trapped in your thoughts?" He shook his head. "At least I am over the PTSD. That one was a real bummer." He laughed mirthlessly.

I sighed shakily and leaned over the table to grip his lower arms in a tight grasp that I hoped to be reassuring. Grounding. At least it got me his attention.

"Harry, what did Hermione say, when she told you about me?"

He blinked confusedly and licked his chapped lips. I tried to catch his gaze with mine, but he evaded me deftly. I wanted him to think. To understand.

"I don't know what …"

"It is a simply question. How did she describe me?"

He drew in a breath, as if to answer me, but then seemed to think better of it and closed his mouth. Maybe he could not find the words. Or he simply didn't want to think of something that would snap him out of his melancholy mood. But whatever the reason, I needed him to answer me, so I tightened my hands on his arms. I got a mumble for my efforts.

"Pardon?"

"She said that you'd get me", Harry exclaimed with a slightly elevated voice. "That you'd understand, 'cause you've been through the same shit."

We hadn't lived through the same trials but I deterred myself from correcting him. Now was not the time.

"What she meant and what I am going to tell you is that you don't have to pretend with me."

His eyes looked into mine. At last.

"If you're angry, be angry. If you're happy, be happy", I asked of him in a rather sorry attempt to cheer him up. Though it was not all for naught since the corners of his lips twitched.

"And if you're suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder then let someone help you with it. I know that it is not easy."

It would not be called a disorder if it were. After the war, Merlin even after some particularly gruesome battles, I had been through it too. It took a lot nowadays to trigger me, but when I had been younger … At one time I heard a bell ring in Diagon Alley. There was a spell that broke all the bones in the targets body. It didn't happen in a tidy way. When it had run its course you mostly saw broken skin and sharp bones … And before it hit the target it made a sound exactly like the bell I had heard that day. In one of the bigger Death Eater raids I had been part of in the first war, several people had chosen to inflict this curse upon muggles and I … I had found myself back in that situation. I had begun running and taken cover behind several barrels. It was only luck that I had had Regulus Black with me at the time. He had helped me to regain my bearings, before I had been able to start shooting curses.

"Okay. Will do." He gave me several nods that seemed to grow more certain with each time. "Right. Yeah."

He cleared his throat and I leaned back in my seat again. I could not believe I had been able to help Harry. This was unheard of. Had I imagined such a scenario before this date, which I hadn't, thank Merlin, I would probably have pictured myself patting Harry's hand and awkwardly saying: "There, there".

"Sorry, for dragging up this heavy stuff." He shook his head at himself. "I didn't want it to come up so soon and sure as hell not on our first date. I wanted to prepare you, you know? Let you get used to me first, before I started to spring all the twisted stuff on you."

This simile reminded me eerily of an experiment that included a frog and a pot of hot water. I refrained from saying so.

"What have we been talking about again?"

"Your chosen profession", I said helpful as I always thrived to be and Harry nodded.

* * *

After desert we sat amiably together. Throughout the course of our conversation I had gathered that Harry had established a company with none other than Blaise Zabini who was the official face of the enterprise as well as the one that made deals, while Harry was the head of the creative department which was responsible for designing houses as well as drawing the plans. Apparently he had taken to sketching as a means of distraction during the war. It was, he claimed, the only good the war did for him. It was not hard for me to believe that.

"And what do you do, Severus?"

"I am a teacher."

Harry snorted and started to chuckle. I raised an eyebrow.

"What do you find so amusing?"

"Oh, it's just that I get the whole strict teacher vibe you give off now." His eyes shone with mirth. "I guess that job fits you."

"There are many that would disagree to this notion."

"How come?" He tilted his head.

"Teaching brings out the worst in me. I am not entirely sure why I still put up with it, now that the war is over and I am no longer obligated to do it."

"Maybe you're used to it. Change isn't always so great. I should know." His expression grew wistful.

"I can relate to that. Sometimes I feel as though I've had enough excitement to last me two lifetimes."

"Yeah. Make that three. Or four." He chuckled. He did that awfully often. I was not used to people being so open around me. Or maybe I should say 'in spite of me'. Because of me?

"You know what I'd like?" Harry said fixing me with his green eyes in a way that made me feel as though my breath had been knocked out of me. My heart lurched and I had to clear my throat before answering.

"What is that?"

"I'd like myself some boring. A boring, typical, average life."

I smiled thinly and was observant enough to notice that Harry's eyes instantly focused on it. His cheeks colored slightly. I felt dizzy.

"I would enjoy such a thing, too."

We only talked about trivial things then. Our favorite books, subjects, movies … We got into a brief argument when the conversation moved to music, because I tended to only listen to classical music and Harry did not understand that at all. ("But you get so much more from songs with lyrics!"). In the end he admitted to occasionally listening to purely instrumental music as well and even managed to surprise me by mentioning his favorite composer, an Icelandic man and a wizard ("I just don't understand why he hasn't published is work in the muggle world yet!") whose pieces I was not familiar with. Harry promised me to lend me the CD sometime.

It was all very domestic. Average. Boring. I liked it very much.

* * *

After leaving the restaurant, Harry and I decided to walk for a bit. It was not very late yet and apparently he didn't live far away. I wasn't sure if we were going to visit said establishment ever again, since the vile, demonic waiter had again shot Harry and I a look of utter befuddlement as we left the restaurant immersed in animated chatter. I wanted to club him. Hexing him felt to sophisticated a thing to be appropriate for the likes of him. But on the other hand I wanted to take Harry out to Tony's again, even if it was just to show this Carlos (I had read the name tag on his vest) that I was indeed able to hold the attention of a man like Harry.

I sighed quietly as I walked beside the dark haired man that had already gotten under my skin. The sound of humanity was all around us. Cars, laughter, music … It all lulled me in a thin veil of premature misery. I had not expected it to start so soon, since I had fully intended to wallow in it the next morning when I remembered Harry again and found out just why a relationship between us was not possible at all. But I had not counted on me being besieged by a fit of maudlin feelings before then.

I breathed in the warm summer air and also got a whiff of Harry's cologne. Must the man smell so great? There was no need for it, under all the wonderful, beautiful, dazzling things he already was. I felt inadequate and that was not a feeling I liked at all. Even though Harry had done his best throughout the evening to assure me that he found me attractive, I did not feel like it at all. It was moronic and had anybody told me that they felt that way, I would have ridiculed them. It was easy to condemn people for experiencing feelings one was not familiar with regarding a certain situation.

I almost started as Harry bumped his shoulder into mine and smiled a soft smile at me.

"Thinking hard, are you?"

"Perhaps."

"What got you into this particularly awful mood?"

I sighed again, louder this time. I was unsure how to breach the subject.

"Harry …"

"Yes, Severus?" he interrupted me.

"We did not finish our musings regarding what happened between us … before this date", I said at last. I took a deep breath and hoped that this would not give this evening an unpleasant turn. We needed to talk about this and I would rather have it off my chest as soon as possible.

"You are right", Harry said, as we walked through the night. "This is going to be serious, huh?" he asked and winked at me, before he straightened his shoulders. "Right. So … what did you want to tell me?"

"I …", I started but was abruptly stunned into silence as Harry took my hand in his with a fast and flowing movement. His palm was a bit moist and I could feel calluses on his strong fingers. He squeezed my much longer fingers with his broad palm and I could not keep my breath from hitching and a spark from igniting deep in my chest.

"Harry?"

"Look, I just want to hold your hand, while having this conversation, okay? It may sound stupid, but I need something to reassure me that you're with me, throughout this."

I swallowed. "My talking about past crimes is not going to suffice for reassuring you of my presence?"

Harry chuckled softly. "No. It's not. I'm a tactile person. At least, I am with people I care about. So, just let me have this connection. Please?"

Instead of answering I returned his previous squeeze with one of my own. "Alright, then. As I already informed you, I had one of the leading roles in the last wizarding war", I began and Harry made an agreeing noise.

"But my role was a lot different than yours."

"Most roles are", Harry said tonelessly and I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

"Well yes, but what I wanted to say was that I was not as … heroic, if you will. My role was of a more dubious quality", I hedged.

"Severus, I'm sure you're able to say this in viewer words. Could you do that, please?" Harry said and sighed.

"I was a spy", I said at last.

"A spy", he parroted.

"For the light side, yes. But to do so, I had to, of course, be a death eater."

"So, you became one to help us out?"

I closed my eyes tightly. "I fear, I only saw the error of my ways a while after I had become a death eater and then sought to redeem myself in every way possible."

There was nothing but silence and the faint murmur of people around us.

"Oh."

I found it very hard to swallow, but forced myself to go on. "I … did a lot of atrocious things and it would be a lie to say that I did not enjoy them at all. There were times … Times when the Dark Lord and the fact that I was finally part of a group, of something bigger … all the ways I was able to take control over other beings … it made me feel strong. It was a heady feeling."

"What made you change your mind?" Harry inquired hoarsely, but without any intonation at all. His hand lay limply in mine.

"I betrayed the only person I ever loved. Though she did not know that I was in any position to do so and though we were not friends anymore at the time … To me it always felt that way. Like betrayal." Treason. Treachery.

"What happened to her?"

"She died. And her husband with her. Their child was left an orphan. It woke me up. No, that is not it … it showed me that the dream I had thought to be living was in truth a nightmare. The worst nightmare."

"Was she muggleborn? Was that why you weren't friends with her anymore?" He still asked me questions, even if they were like an interrogation to me. But that was still better than silence or yelling.

"She was muggleborn, yes. But that would not have mattered to me, though she thought it did." I screwed up my face. I did not dare look at Harry.

"Why would she think that?"

"Because I told her so."

"But why would you-"

"Because she loved another", I interrupted Harry forcefully, wrenched my hand out of his and closed my suddenly stinging eyes tightly. I had not talked about this in such a long time. Eternity. Twenty years. What was the difference?

"She loved the one person that made my life a living hell. The one that ridiculed me, the one that made me want to have control for once in my existence. And he loved her right back. I knew it, even when she did not. So I made sure she hated me. Our friendship would have died not long after they had gotten together." I huffed. "Of course it died either way." But back then it had seemed logical to get her to hate me, before she was forced to choose between me and James. I would never have measured up.

"And then …" Harry whispered.

"Then I joined the dark ranks. I swore loyalty. I swore to kill, to torture … And I did. And even though I had sided with the Dark Lord because of the power he promised me, I could not forget about my muggle father who had hated me my whole life for being different." The air around me felt chilly. It was a cold that situated itself on my skin as well as on my insides. "You must understand this, Harry. That is why I am telling you this. Because, be assured, I am not usually this open. But you must know what you are about to get into. You have to be certain that you can live with a murderer. And one that does not regret all of his killings. "

There was nothing but silence between us now. I almost wished that I had not talked about my unbecoming past, but I knew better than that. While it had been hard for me to reveal all of this, even to myself, I was sure that it had had to be done. I would rather Harry left me after one nice evening than after several months. I did not want to become too attached to him, as long as this still stood between us. There would always be some unsaid matters, I guessed. But this was the one thing that needed to be said and I could not take it back, unless Harry obliviated himself tomorrow.

I was hopeless and I was aware of that. Here I was, hands hanging limply and so obviously empty at my sides and still I was thinking about a future with this man.

"I do not regret all of them, either."

I was so surprised to hear his voice that my head whipped to the side to stare at Harry's profile.

"To what do you refer?"

"The killings. The murders I committed. There were people that … Let's just say, I am glad they're dead. So, I get that part. The no regretting thing. And the love and wanting to have control, too. I don't like it much … that you where a death eater, but … you helped in the end, right?"

"I did my best", I said, unable to believe the direction our conversation was going.

"So, yeah … I guess, I understand. And I am no angel either. I also did some stuff that was … unnecessarily … messy."

And there it was again. The pressure of one hand squeezing another. His squeezing mine. Him entwining our fingers together. It was …

We walked in amiable silence then, each of us processing what we had just heard. Harry's words had sounded genuine and I tried my best to believe him. For the most part, I succeeded. There was a measure of doubt that remained, but I was neither surprised by it, nor did I try to dissolve it. The reason why it was there was easy: trust. While I liked Harry, I did not trust him yet. I did not believe he would not hurt me or condemn me. Maybe, because I deserved both. But also, because there was no way for trust to establish itself between two virtual strangers. And who knew, perhaps tomorrow I would be able to think of some more reasons not to put faith in him. To not lay bare more than I had already had. Telling Harry what I had done in the war, even as vaguely as I had described it, had, while not easy, been necessary. It had not had so much to do with trust. More with practicality.

I tried to stop thinking about all this, tried to not think at all, though I knew that was an impossible feat for humans. We always needed to think about something. Fickle, weak things that we were. It was a menace. There were times such as these when I wished I could just shut down my brain and enjoy the silence. But as it were, I made do. I could still focus on other things than the nagging feeling in my stomach that told me that something really bad would come of this. Instead, I just alternated between squeezing Harry's hand and trying to discern all the smells that lay in the air. We had left the busier part of London behind us and were now walking down a street that seemed to consist solely of apartments.

That was when Harry stopped and stepped in front of me. He liked his lips and looked imploringly into my eyes as if searching for something. He seemed nervous and determined at the same time. I raised an eyebrow, wary of what was to come.

"Severus, I don't want this to end after tonight, okay? I really like you. You're fun. I mean it's not all sunshine and roses, but you're awesome and … I would like this to continue."

I swear to Merlin that my heart stopped for a second. Maybe.

"Even after my revelation?" Even after all the silence?

"Yeah, even after that. But if you want, you could give me something good to weigh up against the bad." There was mischief in his voice. And in his face. His playful mood seemed to have made reappearance. In turn, I felt my face soften, even though his change of mood puzzled me.

"And what would that be?"

"Well, since this is my apartment, I would like to have a kiss good night", Harry drawled and took my other hand in his, too.

I almost jumped and something seemed to figuratively burst inside of me. A knot I had not been aware of. And from the spot of the burst, a warmth and a flow of excitement streamed through me. I was positively shaking, but tried to hide it by acting nonchalantly.

"You think it is going to be pleasurable?" I queried and Harry huffed amusedly.

"Since I've been staring at your lips for the whole evening it better be awesome!"

"You have been staring?"

"Hell, yeah! I like your lips." He underlined that fact by focusing his eyes on the very subject of our conversation.

"I do not see how they are anything special", I said, trying for modesty.

Harry hummed thoughtfully. "I get what you mean. Many people only like pouty lips and I agree that they are hot. But thin lips are genius, too. Even more so, because they're a part of your mouth." Harry released my hands but he did not stop touching me for long, since he stepped into my personal space and laid his hands on the nape of my neck. His chest touched mine and the warmth of his body seeped through the fabric of his suit. A shudder raced through the whole of my body and Harry grinned.

"That mouth makes me crazy", he continued. His mouth was so close to mine that I could feel his warm breath hitting my lips as he spoke.

"It's pronouncing all those sophisticated words and talks in such an eloquent way. It's a talented mouth. I like those, you know?" His face was so unbearably close. Unbearable not to touch it. Criminal even. His lips almost brushed mine and my heart beat so fast, rapidly, quickly, swiftly …

"Talented mouths", he whispered and this time our mouths touched so exquisitely, so barely there as he spoke and I could not hold back any longer. I lifted my arms and pulled him flush against me. Our lips pressed into each other firmly and softly because his lips, though chapped, felt like velvet on mine. Harry moaned as I moved my mouth and he was quick to respond in kind. Our lips opened against each other, hugging, touching, biting, tugging tenderly, passionately, perfectly imperfectly together. One of Harry's hands moved to my cheek and caressed my cheekbone from time to time while I splayed out my palms on his back in a desperate attempt to touch as much of him as I could at a time.

When I ended the kiss, not because I wanted to, but because it _had_ to end at one point, Harry gasped against my lips.

"Knew it", he whispered and leaned back.

"Did not", I retorted and Harry laughed.

"Ahh, Severus. Thank you for this evening. It was outstanding."

"That it was", I concurred.

"Yeah."

He stepped back from our embrace and turned to the stairs, which were situated on the right site of where I was standing.

"Good night, Severus. I will write you tomorrow, okay? I will. Promise."

I could only hope.

 

* * *

_A song you might want to look up throughout the course of this chapter:_

_**Þau Hafa Sloppið Undan Þunga Myrk** _ _by_ _**Ólafur Arnalds** _ _  
_

* * *

**Chapter 3**  
_Different, unlike anything else  
_

* * *

 

Waking up next day was a strange affair. I did not quite remember why a sinking feeling of dread was residing in my stomach. I knew that I must have a certified reason for feeling thus, but it eluded me for a second or two. In retrospect, it probably was a safety mechanism constructed by my mind in order to spare me from the shattered feeling I experienced the moment it all came back to me.

Harry Potter.

The restaurant.

Fun.

Teasing.

Solace.

Truth.

The _kiss_.

Oh, my …

I lay in bed, paralyzed. My head was in a state of frenzy that prevented me from feeling anything at all. Sadly that state only lasted for a small amount of time. That was when words hit me like stones. One was more unpleasant than the other.

 _Disbelief_. Hermione would never …

 _Rage_. That waiter …!

 _Nausea_. Those compliments I gave him …

 _Anger_. After all I've been through, he feels as though nobody understands _him_?

 _Consternation_. I've told him all about my crimes …

 _Self-disgust_. I kissed him! And for one night I was falling for him …

I let out a strangled cry in order to interrupt my swirling thoughts and sprang out of bed. There was a dent in the pillow where I had lain the entire night in peaceful slumber. I snorted disgustedly at the very thought. What was wrong with me? Liking Potter? Developing feelings for him? And in just one night at that? Merlin …

I really had had no remembrance of Harry Potter last night. He had just been a quirky handsome stranger that I had a date with. A date I had enjoyed a great deal. My thoughts had even gone as far as coming up with the pictures of future dates, hugs, kisses, sex … I buried my head in my hands, groaning. How humiliating! Had I told him about my thoughts? Had I exposed myself in that respect? Not that it made much of a difference. I had laid bare so many facts about myself I might as well have gone ahead and revealed my unfortunate und dunderheaded infatuation with him, too.

What had possessed me? I had always thought that I was the one person in the world Harry Potter was not able to charm. It seemed I just needed to be drugged a little bit for it to work. At the moment my head conjured up all bad things that had ever happened to me in relation to that man. Of course those things had only occurred, because I had agreed to look after him. Protect him. Because he was Lily's son. Merlin, _Lily_ … What kind of despicable man was capable of wanting the son of the person he had once loved beyond measure? Was I this sick, loathsome, appalling?

I must be. There was no other explanation. But one question remained: Why? Why did I feel like this? There had never been any stirring of arousal or even affection in the direction of Harry Potter. Never had I even imagined any of those things that still lingered in my head and conscience because of last night. This kind of attraction that had almost left me whimpering had it not been for a life of restraint, caused only by his mere presence and the ghost of a crooked smile … I physically winced as the memory of him was affecting me even now. Yesterday had been … different, unlike anything else. It was as if the person I had shared a meal and joked with yesterday was another being altogether. This wonderful, slightly broken man had nothing to do with idiotic, brash, wind-swept Harry Potter, bane of my existence.

The both of them felt different. When I thought of Harry Potter my head produced the picture of a scowling teen screaming the word "coward" at me over and over. When I thought of Harry, all I was able to see was green and smiles. There were no bad feelings whatsoever. Instead I felt warmth, and fingers that dug into my cheek. Smooth and firm, eliciting positively delicious responses from every nerve that resided there and relished in the feeling of being touched. There was no sense of dread or self-punishment. There was only affection, slight embarrassment and his tongue in my mouth, his words in my ear, his breath in my lungs and being kissed, kissed, _kissed_.

Could these two persons ever be one and the same?

I was not sure. Not so long ago, my answer would have been a decisive and undoubting "no". Such a thing wasn't possible at all. Not when the affected human didn't have issues with bipolarity.

But even back then it would have been the answer of a hypocrite.

The difference between the Severus of the past and the one of the present was that I did, as Hermione had once put it, call myself on my bullshit. This was a crude way to formulate it, but I was not in the mood for euphemisms. No. I needed the blunt, unaltered truth laid bare in front of me. I needed to be honest. And in all honesty, sincerity and seriousness I knew that every human was capable of exhibiting various personalities that were slightly different from their real ones in order to fit certain occasions. Certain people.

There had been angry and baleful Severus for the marauders. Shrewd and wry Severus for Regulus. Soft and smiling Severus for Lily. Groveling and stone-faced Severus for the Dark Lord. And so many more … I didn't know why it had never occurred to me that Harry must live like that too and probably reserved one of his most hateful personalities for me. It did not matter that I had at first only hated him for the sake of my cover as a spy. It had been too easy to just see his rotten father in him and ignore the brilliance of Lily that shone through his eyes.

I was running my fingers through my hair as something became frighteningly clear all of a sudden. I had never, even once, considered Harry as an individual. He had only ever been a part of one of his parents to me.

It struck me like a lightening, that thought. I frowned, drew a deep breath and wandered into the kitchen. Heavy thoughts like these needed coffee to be digested properly.

My kitchen was, as the rest of my quarters, colored a light brown with white walls and black tiles. I did not use it often. There was simply no deed as I usually ate in the great hall and there were always house elves available if I needed for anything. They never managed to brew coffee in a way that satisfied me, though. Magic did not seem to suffice in this area, it seemed. That was why I used an actual coffee-maker, which was spelled to draw its energy from the magic that surrounded it.

While the beverage poured itself into the big cup I had intended for it, I put my hands on the counter and leaned heavily on them. I closed my eyes.

Shallow. Shallow. Shallow.

Was I really that and every implication that came with it? By Merlin, I had been a spy! Was I not supposed to read people without prejudice? Should I not be able to detect a person's true nature, like the mirror of Erised spotted a wizard's deepest desire? It seemed that I, like any other mirror, did have a blind spot. And it had taken the form, color and shape of Harry Potter.

As I sat myself at the table and wrapped my long fingers around my coffee mug, something else came to my mind. Had I seen and experienced the real Harry Potter last night? Did the potion that had been supposed to blind me, in fact eviscerate the blind spot I had had inside of me?

I felt helpless. Because the anger and disbelief hadn't left me, in spite of all the epiphanies this morning seemed to bestow upon me. Last night might have been … rewarding, but the fact still remained that I had shared it with a person I had actively disliked for years. One night was not enough to purge the memory of years of words that had cut, sliced and hacked themselves through defenses and into feelings and brains and hearts. I could practically see them there, Potter and Harry. The top- and bottom-half of the King of Hearts. My mind could not merge them into an ace. It wasn't possible. There was no way.

So I closed my eyes and focused on the thing I was able to do something about. The person I could be angry at, without having conflicting feelings. My eyes snapped open and narrowed.

_Granger._

* * *

"Granger!"

Hermione, who was sitting alone in the teacher's conference room, slowly turned around. It was infuriating.

"Severus, I have been expecting you."

"Have you now?" I said scathingly and crossed my arms in front of my chest.

Hermione cocked her eyebrow and leaned back in her chair again, thus forcing me to walk around the table, if I wanted to look at her face while we were having this conversation. I kept myself from growling and stalked forward.

"Please, sit down."

I shook my head, determined not to give her the upper hand in anything else.

She just smiled indulgently, as you would at a stubborn child that refused to see reason. Her curly hair was held together by a band low at her neck and she idly twirled a quill between her fingers. Then she dropped the act and sighed.

"So, tell me." She threw the quill on the parchment that lay on the table. "Tell me what was so horrible about last night that I deserve this particular brand of bitchface."

I scrunched up my nose at her crude language. "Your husband is a bad influence on you."

"That may be, but you did not come to me in order to talk to me about Ron." She leaned forward and linked her fingers together on the tabletop. "You're here for Harry."

I snorted rather ungracefully and sat down in spite of myself. Everything about me felt heavy and unable to deal with the absurdity of it all.

"Harry. You say the name just like that. As though it means nothing."

As though it hadn't orchestrated the better part of my life.

"Doesn't it to you?" she asked, I felt, rather impudently.

"It means everything. Everything bad in my live is linked to this awfully generic name!" I more or less spit the words. Forced them out of my mouth, lips, tongue, soul.

Hermione laughed mirthlessly. "I just think you're not comfortable hearing his name. Not even after last night."

 _Especially not after last night._ I did not say the words that resonated so clearly in my mind. Instead I said something else. Something that was equally true to me.

"Last night was a farce! A set up! It was not …"

"Real?" Hermione interrupted me. "Why would you think that?"

I rubbed the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger.

"Because it would never have happened, if it were not for the potion."

"And that is why the potion is so ingenious! It allows for things. Things that aren't even possible without it!" She gesticulated wildly with her hands. And without knowing it she had struck the very nerve of the matter that was ailing me.

"Exactly." I did not say more. It wasn't necessary. I spotted the exact moment when comprehension dawned on Hermione's rather pretty face. I also saw the pity making itself comfortable there. Recognized it in the way her mouth opened and her eyebrows drew themselves together. Heard it in the almost silent sigh she made and the clucking of her tongue.

"My God, Severus, I …" She shook her head. "Don't you realize this opportunity for what it is?"

"Nonexistent?"

She snarled and the pitiful look vanished from her face. Thankfully.

"No, you giant idiot! This is a once in a lifetime thing! Do you really want to miss out on that?"

She knew the answer to that so I didn't deign with a response. She stood up and took the seat beside me.

"Severus. Is it really so awful that you spent the evening with Harry?"

"Yes", I said in a clipped tone.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Now you're just being childish."

"I have every right. You tricked me."

She laughed and leaned her forehead on her hand. "Yes. And I'm not sorry."

I raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

She grinned smugly. "I'm going to take a wild guess here." She leaned closer to whisper conspiratorially to me. "You liked it!"

"I assure you, I did n-"

"And now you feel like you've seen this great possibility that you're not allowed to pursue", she interrupted me. "But you know what? You are! You are allowed to have this! All you need to do is to go ahead and try!"

"It is not that easy!" I finally burst out.

"Pray tell, Severus. Why isn't it?"

"There is too much history between us. I can't ever forgive him for what he did!"

"Oh, come on! Now you're just grasping at straws!"

" _He_ can never forgive me for what _I_ did!"

"Oh, but he has."

This shut me up. My mouth opened in a surprised way and I just stared at Hermione, uncomprehending. She leaned closer and put a hand on my arm.

"He has forgiven you. After all he saw your memories in that pensieve. He knows about you. And he knows the stories I tell him about you. He doesn't have any hard feelings for you. Not anymore."

I swallowed thickly. "Did he say so himself?"

She smiled. "Yeah. Just this morning. You don't think you're the first one to storm up to me and shout obscenities _at_ me, do you?"

"There was shouting?"

"Oh, yes. He can be rather creative, when he wants, too." She pursed her lips thoughtfully.

I straightened, still not believing in the possibility of it all. "But how can you say that there is even the remotest chance of something taking place between us, if he just damned you not so long ago?"

"Ha! I hear that _something_ has _already_ taken place. Something rather spectacular that involved tongues and a lot of pawing."

"What?" I almost yelled and flinched away from her. Potter had told her? How dare him!

Hermione for her part looked unbearably self-satisfied. "There's no need to be embarrassed … Or so I hear."

I narrowed my eyes at her and she started to cackle rather evilly. But through my mortification I still registered something of great import. Potter had liked the kiss!

"What else has he told you?" I asked. It was time I remembered how to act like a Slytherin. The first step was du accumulate information on the target. Hermione of course saw right through me, which irritated me to no end, but also didn't matter, since she seemed to be so eager to get Potter and me together that she was willing to spill the beans on whatever information I needed.

"He said that you didn't have so much in common regarding hobbies, but that you were able to get him out of his gloomy mood. He said he liked the way you spoke and that he hadn't ever recognized that before. I don't see how he missed it. He's a sucker for formal language. You should see him when he watches Star Trek reruns and Mr. Spock is on the scene." She shook her head wistfully and I made an impatient motion with my hand, since I wanted her to go on.

"Alright, um … he got into great detail when describing all of your physical features he liked last night and never paid any mind to when he knew who you were." She grinned again and had the audacity to twinkle at me. Twinkle! "Believe me. The way he sounded you might as well have sprung from a closet full of porn."

I rolled my eyes. "I find that very hard to believe."

"Me too. I don't think you even have a closet full of porn."

I closed my eyes in irritation. "May I ask what has gotten you in this ridiculous mood, so that I can shut it off at its source?"

" _You_ got me into this mood. But I wouldn't want you to shut yourself off. Crazy love machine that you are. I wouldn't hear the end of it from a certain bed-headed guy I know."

I could not quite grasp the ludicrousness that was this situation. What had Potter told her to instill this idiotic belief in her that I was some kind of sex fiend? Or was she simply teasing me? I wanted it to stop. At least I did on one hand. On the other I wanted to hear more, which made me mad at myself.

Hermione finally seemed to catch up on my thoughts and her devilish smile turned into something gentler.

"Teasing aside, Severus … Harry liked you. He really did. He said the kiss was awesome and that you were awesome, too. But …"

Of course there was a but. There always was. I forced myself not to let my shoulders drop.

Hermione licked her lips. "He also said that he was not sure if this is going to work out. He said he needed to think and …" She shook her head. "I am sure he is going to decide in favor of you. If last night was really as wonderful as he made it sound, I know he will." She leaned back in her chair.

"Just tell me one thing, will you?"

I drew a deep breath. "Yes?"

"Was last night … beautiful?" A light was dancing in her brown doe eyes.

I pondered the question. Last night had left me with a tumble of feelings. Anger. Hate. Mortification and a great deal of puzzlement. But had it been beautiful?

"Yes."

* * *

I spent the rest of the day pondering over my situation. It seemed unnecessarily complicated to me while not being complicated enough. Essentially, the only people making this complicated at all where Harry and I. Nobody else had told me that this could not work and was very likely a bad idea. In an ideal world we would be able to get over ourselves and simply live life to its fullest without caring about things past. We would be able to see each other again without hard feelings, just with a sense of remorse for having not seen the potential between us sooner.

Alas, this was no perfect world. Even if we were able to forgive and forget, to love each other, there would still be people that were against a relationship between us. It would be hard to be told that I was undeserving of Potter. Witches and wizards alike met me with calculated aloofness these days. They talked to me, if they had to, but wasted not one unnecessary word on me. I was mostly fine with that, since I had expected to be either dead, soulless or imprisoned for life at the end of the war. Indifference, I could live with. But the mob would not be able to hold onto it, once I had stolen their savior from the market.

One of the other problems, a part of the core of the matter if you will, was again insecurity. I did not feel that Potter was too good for me. Not now that I remembered him in all his glory and faultiness. It also wasn't a matter of looks anymore. I simply felt afraid of being intimate with anyone, as I had already stated before. It would be so easy to just say that I could not be with Potter because of what had transpired between us and be done with it, when the main obstacle was that I felt like my soul had been covered with grime over the years. I did not want to share the dark things inside of me. There was a reason they were buried so deeply. Potter was a curious person. He would get every little secret out of me, if he just put his mind to it. And while I was strong of mind I also was weak for love. I could as well admit that.

My thoughts were spinning in circles in my head. Should I, would I, could I. Just the old dance, every one of us knows the steps to. I idly twirled a strand of my hair between my fingers; thinking about maybe cutting it off, if that meant I could stop thinking about my issue. It was a stupid thought and I mentally hit myself for it. Peace gradually made me lose my discipline. Made me weak, powerless, feckless. On one hand, this was good. It meant there was no need for constant vigilance, to coin a phrase. On the other, I now had to deal with thoughts that had been of no importance before and had taken to torment me nowadays.

My pondering was getting me nowhere. I came back to the same points time and time again without seeing any clearer what the right path was. I knew what I wanted. I just didn't know if I wanted to allow myself to have it. Whether it was wise or not. So I got up from my couch and went to the cabinet I kept in my living room. I opened it and revealed many yearbooks. Some were from the time I had been a student myself. Most of them originated afterwards. All of them represented a year I had spent in Hogwarts, either as pupil or as a teacher. My finger brushed the spines of the first six. When I reached the seventh, the one from the year 1978, I hesitated at first and then pulled it from the shelf. I held it in my hands and stared at it. I had leafed though it many times. There was only one page I had never looked at. The one with Lily's picture on it.

A Hogwarts year book had a page for each and every student in it. There was a picture and some characteristics … I had never wanted to see Lily in all her unspoiled beauty again. Not on a picture and not in a book that reminded me of the year in which all the bad in my life had gotten the most potent fuel on the market. I had not wanted to see all the things that had made her good and loveable spelled out. The sum of everything I had destroyed. Maybe now was the time to finally do it.

But before I could find her page, a screech interrupted me and I laid the book on the coffee table in front of my couch. A house elf stood beside it with a brown owl on its shoulder. Its big watery eyes stared fearfully at me and its hands were twisting the fabric of the dish towel wrapped around its body.

"Kitty is deeply sorry for interrupting, but little owl here did not want to give her Master Snape's letter, so she was having to bring it down here …"

"That is quite alright, Kitty", I responded and walked the short distance to retrieve the letter. After I had done so, Kitty bowed and left in a hurry with the featherball.

The envelope was rather thick. Something square and hard was inside of it. A rip of paper later I found myself holding a CD case as well as a page of parchment. I set the CD aside and turned, heart beating faster, to the letter. I would have recognized that messy handwriting anywhere.

_Dear Severus,_

_I hope you can sense the tone of familiarity I am trying for here. It is entirely intentional._

_This is the sixth or seventh attempt I am making at this letter. I tried for formal, I tried for angry, I tried for overly sentimental …_

_Now I have decided to simply write down whatever wants to be written. We can only hope that it's not going to be too awful._

_I am, to say the least, angry. Not at you, for the most part. I am mad at Hermione. As I have told you at, and I hesitate to even write it, our date, I always had a lot of faith in her. But sometimes I think that the difference between ingenious and insane is a very small one._

_I woke up this morning with a sense of contentment that lasted for all of a second. Then I remembered. I don't want to insult you here and if I am, I'm sorry. I'm just trying to write down my thoughts, warped as they are. It's difficult._

_I guess what I want to say is that it was hard for me, too. (I am simply assuming here that you woke up and wanted to gulp down bleach in order to get my taste out of your mouth.)  
Remembering last night was agony. Not because I hate you so much. I don't. For the last years I have mostly been indifferent regarding you. Still. It would be a lie to say that our history didn't have a part in my anger. I have forgiven you. But I haven't forgotten anything. I am an elephant like that. I still remember certain words you flung at me and the memory of them alone makes me flinch at times. So, well …_

_The other thing that made me angry was that I had never seen anything in you, which is just plain unfair, since last night I felt this, probably stupid, sense of belonging. And, in turn, that made me furious too. Because, in what world would I belong to you?_

_I thought hard about this. You may insert a joke about whether it hurt me a lot to do so now. I don't care. I screamed at Hermione, told her that she was a meddling old wench. I still crack up when I picture the look she had on her face right then. But somehow I have been able to sort through my thoughts a little bit. Most of them are still in a jumble, but we must work with what we have right? And, impossible as it seems to me, the Harry from last night had a brilliant time with the Severus of that time. And since that Harry is a part of me, he gets a vote. (As do all of my personalities … Just kidding. There aren't that many … Or are there? Seriously. Stopping now.) Last-Night-Harry wants another date. Wants to talk some more, laugh some more, kiss some more and maybe suck you off in the men's room._

_I'm not going to deny him. The question is: Are you?_

_\- Harry_

_PS: The CD I sent with this letter, is the one I talked to you about on our date. The last song reminds me of us or … of what we could be. Yes, I am corny. So what?_

All I could do was stare. Stare at the dried words before me that made so much sense and yet didn't. Harry wanted to meet me again. Despite everything. He must have mulled the same thoughts in his head that I had struggled with and still he had come to the conclusion to pursue me. _This_. It was unbelievable. But my heart thudded rapidly in my chest and there was a bubbly feeling inside of me that put a smile on my face. Was it possible that …

I sighed, my mind still not made up once and for all. I put the letter carefully on the table and looked at the CD in my other hand. The case was black with a single white circle in its middle that looked similar to a rim made by a wet glass that had been put on a surface. There was nothing written on it, except on the backside which read "… and they have escaped the weight of darkness" in tiny letters. I crossed the room and put the CD into my player. I paid the first tracks no mind. I would listen to them later. Now I was only interested in hearing the last song. The one that Harry had said reminded him of what he wanted us to be.

The song started out slowly with the tentative tones of a piano that was soon joined by violins. The sounds were aching and made me feel raw. I heard the sadness that slipped steadily into hopefulness. Goosebumps spread out on my arms and I licked my lips. Why could I see it all so clearly? Could see my life as it once had been. And the loneliness that was gradually wiped away by something better. Which was when the drums set in. I could see me and Harry. Together. Building something beautiful that was supposed to last. Him and me. Perfectly, imperfectly, as I had already pictured us when we were kissing. The kiss was in here, too. Everything that was and could be … The horns signaled our triumph over being miserable. It showed our happiness. When the song ended I could picture Harry and me oh so clearly. Him smiling gently at me. Me smiling back.

As the silence surrounded me, I knew there was only one course of action.

_Harry,_

_I will not deny either of us. Set the date and location. I will be there. I will also have Granger brew a new batch of the potion._

_\- Severus_

 

* * *

  **Chapter 4**  
Amusing, humorous and hilarious _  
_

* * *

 

The day of our second date was a sinister thing. Rain was pouring down in sheets and I had had the unfortunate luck of hearing a student describe it as the heavens vomiting their guts out. Those were the times when I was sorry that I had decided to only hand out detentions, if the delinquent in question really deserved it. I could have happily lived on without that kind of mental image.

My mood was mixed. I felt dread and excitement in equal measures, which left me with a rather peculiar sensation in the pit of my stomach. It had a lot in common with motion sickness. Needless to say, I did not appreciate the feeling. Not that I had the power to do anything against it. Yes, I could have taken a calming draught, but my stubbornness prevented me from doing so. It would have meant that I could not handle this situation. And I could. Maybe, if I told myself that often enough, I really would. I had lived through date one and its quite gloriously abysmal aftermath. Compared to that, this was noting.

A week had passed since the last time I had buried my hand in Harry's hair and just let go. I missed it. This drunk sensation of giving, taking, kissing, flirting … And I fervently hoped for a repeat performance tonight. The thought alone made my heart lurch and for the first time in decades I felt painfully young. A perk or a downside of the matter? I was undecided. The answer would hopefully be provided with time.

I was going to take the potion again, which made Hermione equally annoyed and happy. Annoyed, because I was cowardly enough to need it again (not that she actually said those words) and happy, because she had the opportunity to brew a potion that worked as an aide for the main one. It was needed, since I did want to remember Harry's and my last date, but still needed myself to forget about anything concerning him prior to that. I had had to assist Hermione in abundant ways, regarding the development of this potion. It was a very complicated process to brew it, since it needed to contain a body-part of the person who wanted to forget (me), sampled on the very day that they did _not_ want to forget. Not to mention the numerous times you needed to stir it. But I felt that it was worth the effort. And if Hermione grew tired of it in time, I would just to the brewing myself. It was for _me_ after all. The problem with this kind of solution was of course glaringly obvious. If this was going to go on for some time, I would have to make sure to sample my hair each time Harry and I met. And I would have to split each hair into many parts. It was tedious work, but I was sure I could not go without it. Even now I dreaded the day I would run out of the most essential ingredients …

Today we would meet at a small café just outside of Diagon Alley. Magic folk and muggles alike tended to frequent it, even if the muggles were not aware of the differences between them and the rest of the clientele. It seemed unnecessarily complicated to me, but I had decided to invest my energy into something more productive than judgment. Nervousness for instance. And grading papers while feeling thus. Teaching had morphed itself into a more rewarding experience than it had been in the past years. It had taken effort to lose the fierce method of educating young minds in order to let something gentler take its place. I was still nowhere near nice to my students. But I could see that constructive criticism worked wonders compared to scathing remarks. Also, I did not favor my snakes as much anymore, though I always kept an eye on them to help them out, should a member of one of the other houses torment any of them. The current situation of the Slytherins was dire. Nobody wanted to be one, since a sorting into the house of snakes equaled social suicide. Now even more so than in the years before the last war. It meant that no one trusted you, wanted to talk to you or to touch you, but the members of your own house. You were destined to be an outsider for the rest of your education at Hogwarts. It meant seven years of being hated for the color of your tie. Perfect nesting ground for a new dark lord.

I had made it a well known fact that my office door was always open to my charges. But that only helped so much. Despite what people said about me, I was not a trust inspiring person.  
I had a few ideas about what could be done about the current situation, but did not want to tell Minerva, who now was headmistress, before I had worked out something more detailed. I would not let them have the upper hand by coming to them with a plan that was practically made of holes and things that could go wrong. Maybe I should run my suggestions by Harry. If there was one person interested in equal treatment and justice, it was him. Bless his damned hero complex.

I glanced at the watch and saw that it was high time to go. I grabbed my wand and put it in the holster on my forearm, before I snatched the potion and downed it with thankfulness. The taste of oranges and the warm, spreading feel of the potion taking effect settled me to a small degree. I did not trust myself to behave and meet Harry with the objectivity he (possibly) deserved, without it. Actually, I would very probably have declined another meeting, if it weren't for the certainty of the potion's existence.

I hurried on my way out of the castle and used a water repelling spell as soon as I stepped into the rain. It was rather cold and the wind was biting on my cheeks. Accordingly, I had dressed in a black wool coat that reached my knees just so. The rest of my "outfit" was held in black as well. The only light specks on me came in form of the white collar and cuffs of my shirt that peeked out underneath my black sweater. Buying a new wardrobe was one thing. Wearing color was another.

Hogwarts' grounds finally looked like they had before the war. I noticed this distractedly, almost as a side note to the soap opera that now was my life. The clean-up had taken quite a while and some magical plants like the Whomping Willow had refused to heal for a long time. Of course there were things that would always remind people of what had transpired here. One of those was the gigantic memorial stone that had been placed at the very spot the Dark Lord had been defeated. It held the names of all the people that had fought for the cause of defeating Lord Voldemort and died in the last battle. It was a frighteningly high number of names and I always felt uneasy walking past it. In another, maybe fairer, world, my name was chiseled into the stone, too.

I hastened my steps on the gravel path and apparated the second I found myself outside of the wards. I reappeared in Diagon Alley and travelled the remaining distance by foot. The café was called "Hot Joe" and looked quite warm and appealing to me when I looked through the window. But before I could make my way in, a voice from behind my back stopped me.

"Severus?"

I turned and found myself face to face with Harry. If it was possible, he looked even more enticing than the warmth the café was promising.

I saw him gazing at the whole form of me and swallowing. My heart took said action as a cue to start a marathon of rapid beating. I remembered being distraught over Harry's identity. It didn't seem to matter now. I couldn't seem to grasp "why" anymore. The potion had seen to that. Still, I could not decide on a way of greeting Harry. A handshake was too impersonal, but would a kiss be too presumptuous?

"Hello, Harry", I said, hoping that he would take the matter out of my hands.

He smiled a small cooked smile at me and took a hesitating step in my direction before he seemed to gather his courage and engulfed me in his arms. I drew mine up immediately and hugged him back just in time to be part of an embrace in the moment he touched his soft lips to mine. I sighed contentedly and leaned into the kiss. The nervousness did not leave me, but morphed into something less anxious and a little more joyful. Our lose embrace became tighter as Harry pressed his body against mine and stroked his hand down my back in a sweeping caress. Our kiss became one of several fleeting ones that were exchanged between us. Small, soft and surprisingly intimate as they were, they added themselves to the warm, happy feeling inside me that I could have simply called "Harry", since it seemed to be purely made out of and by him. Not that I had reached that level of sap yet.

When he drew his head back, the rest of his body remained close for a moment and his eyes looked deeply into mine. His brows were drawn together slightly. I raised my hand and smoothed my thumb over the crease between his eyebrows his facial expression created before turning the gesture into a languid stroke over his forehead and into the mop of his thick black hair. This seemed to affect him in a positive way, because he bit his lip and grinned. He pecked my lips one last time and stepped back a second later, holding out his hand to me and motioning with his head to go inside. I regarded the offered hand with a raised eyebrow. The last time I had held it had been simply because we both had needed the comfort. Also, it had been dark. Harry just laughed and wiggled his fingers. I rolled my eyes and sighed before taking his and giving him a disapproving look.

"You know you like it", he said and I had the inexplicable feeling of having passed some kind of test.

* * *

This second date was different from the first, because of a multitude of reasons.

One: The location was different and so was the atmosphere. "Tony's" had had a sense of fun, but had also come with this particular air of going out. While being there I had felt like those people in stupid movies that spent the better part of the story mooning over each other and repeatedly diminishing their chance to be with their counterpart by behaving in a highly peculiar manner and making a universe of bad decisions. Despite myself, I had enjoyed it. "Hot Joe" was a café full with highly comfortable chairs and couches. Just by being inside, you had the feeling of being in your own living room. This, the dimmed lights and the generously allotted rugs as well as the steaming coffee in my hand gave the situation a manufactured kind of intimacy that I was not sure I enjoyed.

Two: The people. I had not paid a lot of attention to the clientele at that Italian establishment. Which was fine with me. All I had done, was search the room for potential dangers, as was my habit by force and war. But in this café I had no other choice but notice the two men playing chess in the corner of the room and telling each other of conquests past. I knew everything about Jeannie's cousin Macy that apparently was a slut, if one could believe the girls sitting behind Harry and me, and who had slept with Johnny, the pastor's son. It was distracting and unnecessary.

Three: The proximity between Harry and me. We had sat in front of each other two weeks ago. A whole table had been between us. Now I sat stiffly on a moss green couch that was too soft and there was nothing but air and a sudden tenseness in the space betwixt us.

Four: Harry's mood. Seconds ago and also at "Tony's" it had been playful. Now he was quiet and clinging on to the coffee mug in his hands. He gazed shyly at me and constantly worried at his lower lip. This, in turn, called my earlier uneasiness back immediately and left the both of us, or at least myself, not knowing what to do.

Five: Our c…

"I'm sorry", Harry suddenly interrupted my musings and propped himself up against the couch while drawing one of his legs underneath his body. He had shed his jacket when we sat down and the dark blue sweater he wore looked soft. I found myself with the inexplicable urge to touch it and smooth out the creases; maybe dip a finger underneath it and get a feel of the skin it concealed.

"Whatever for?"

He shook his head. "For being so tense. I … it's just … I didn't expect that I would react so strongly because of who you are, you know." He shrugged. "I thought it would be no big deal."

"But it wasn't."

"No." He smiled in a sad sort of way. "It wasn't. And I feel bad, because of that. I still like you. It just scared me that it didn't matter anymore for a second or two."

I drew my eyebrows together.

"Liking someone should always mean something. It should always be important." He licked his lips and put his coffee on the table before looking me in the eye again.

"I didn't like my reaction. I also didn't like that I didn't want to go on a second date with you based on our history."

Though the admission hurt, I decided to be honest as well. "I … found myself in a similar situation, though I do not remember the exact reasons for my feelings."

Harry nodded and rolled up his sleeves. The forearms he revealed were slightly tanned and thinly furred with straight dark hair. Suddenly, he slipped his hand into the pocket of his black denims and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"I need to ask you some questions", he said matter-of-factly. "I wrote them down, so that I wouldn't forget them. I need some answers."

He put a hand on my knee since he seemed to have gleaned my sinking mood. "I know I sounded very sure about everything in the letter I sent you. But the truth is … I'm not. I need to know some things."

"Because you need reasons."

"Yes. But not reasons why this _can't_ work. I want reasons why it can. Why it will."

He looked so earnest right then. But giving him answers to very personal matters? I wasn't sure if I wanted to do something like that or if it was even possible in my state.

I cleared my throat. "Harry … I am not a very open person. Talking about what I did during the war and in between wars is … taxing."

"I get that. But if you want this to develop into something more, you have to let me know stuff. Even if it's hard." His expression became a little lighter for a second. "In exchange I'll tell you stuff too."

"Stuff", I parroted.

"Yeah."

I snorted quietly and put my coffee on the table as well while steeling myself on the inside. Rejection was, again, impossibly near and I could practically hear it clawing on the door of the café, just pining for a way to get inside and devour me.

"Start interrogating me, then", I said in a dry tone that made Harry laugh.

"Thank you. I really appreciate this." He pursed his lips and looked at the sheet of paper in his hands.

And this was how a seemingly endless flow of questions streamed from Harry's mouth. Some, where easy to answer ("Did you really love my mum that much?"). Others left me gasping for air on the in- and grasping for words on the outside ("How did it feel to kill Dumbledore"). He asked so many and some I was not able to answer, due to the potion. All of his queries had to do with the past and my background as a death eater, as well as with my spying. Everything else was kept in the dark and I was glad for that. It was already very unlikely for me to be this open, this trusting, with information I had happily kept to myself for years. Some things needed to be preserved and only revealed gradually, if at all. The café had almost emptied out around us when he, at last, folded up his sheet of paper and sighed.

"Alright, then." He looked as exhausted as I was. Not that he had any right to do that.

"Does this suffice?" I asked tiredly and hoping to Merlin that it did and that I was now allowed to finally relax.

Harry propped up his elbow on the backrest of the couch and leaned his head on his hand. "Yeah. It does."

I sighed almost angrily. "And would you please be so kind as to tell me whether or not I will be allowed to interact with you in a more familiar manner in the future?"

Harry laughed and practically crawled into my lap. My eyes widened fractionally as he settled himself, despite the few remaining people around us, astride my upper legs.

"Be assured, Severus. You may interact with me as familiarly as you want."

I abruptly pulled him closer by his hips which elicited a startled gasp from him.

"You are of course aware that I am now allowed to ask you every personal and invading question that comes to my mind and you will have to answer."

"Of course."

"And I will ask them whenever I feel like it."

"Of course."

"And I reserve myself the right to ask them even in the far and distant future."

"Of course."

"Also, I …"

"Will you just shut up and kiss me? I'm sitting in your damned lap und you can't stop yapping about …"

I decided to shut _him_ up for a change and kiss him the best way I knew how.

* * *

A few weeks as well as a few dates later, I found myself at Harry's place for the first time. Things had started to be truly comfortable between us, though nothing more sexual had happened than some kisses and touches. I, for my part, wanted it, but did not want to rush. Harry had told me something similar, saying he did not care if it was "girly". I also did not. Everything was suddenly easy, to a degree were I had actually brought papers to grade with me. Harry had work to complete as well, but had told me he did not understand why we couldn't at least be in the proximity of the other, even if we had to concentrate on something else.

Harry's house was light and open with many windows. It was a two story house that he, of course, had designed himself. It was held in light colors and the walls were decorated with an abundance of black and white pictures. There actually was an entire wall full with framed photographs of Harry and his friends. I could still recall Harry telling me in a low and intimate voice that he had thought of maybe taking a picture of the both us and hanging it there, too. "If you would like that." I hated having my picture taken, but I found myself liking the idea very much.

As for now, I was sitting in Harry's combined living and dining room. He was seated on the couch, sketching a rough draft for an order he had just gotten this morning and continually murmuring something about a bigger patio. I had settled my work on the beech dining table and was frowning at Joshua Conroy's essay. Not only did he have a handwriting that was barely legible, he also had so many facts wrong that I was unsure if this was supposed to be a joke or not. After the eleventh inch of pure and utter nonsense I found myself growling and scratching out an entire paragraph with vicious strokes of the red biro Harry had provided me with. I heard a giggle coming from the direction of the couch and shot Harry a glare. He just blinked unapologetically at me.

"Patios are fun, don't you think?"

"No, I don't think so." I threw the pen on the paper before me, feeling vaguely dissatisfied that it didn't leave an abundance of ugly ink stains on it. "And neither is this drivel."

"I should make the patio bigger."

"I mean, who writes something like this?"

"I figure, the bigger, the more awesome it is, right?"

"And he also gave it to me, expecting me to correct it!"

"Of course, the garden needs to be expanded too, if I want the patio to be bigger."

"He cannot think that this is good. He simply can't."

"But I'm not sure if the budget allows for the extra meter."

"I wonder if he has been pranked by his friends. Maybe they gave him a modified book. Modified to spit on science."

"I need to talk to Blaise about this. But he's going to say yes, I think. He likes patios as much as any other person."

"I want to throw this in a fire. Burn it. Be done with it and never set my eyes upon it ever again."

"Ah, fuck it. I'm going to make the patio as big as I want."

"I'm done with this. He is going to have to write this again."

I stood up and stretched, before wandering into Harry's kitchen.

"You do have a coffee machine, don't you?" I inquired.

"Of course I do. Who doesn't have a coffee machine?" came the vaguely insulted reply. I simply shrugged.

"You don't mind if I …" I gestured in the direction of the appliance.

"No. Knock yourself out."

I rummaged through the cabinets until I found a coffee mug and prepared my drink. In moments like these I questioned my chosen profession. There was no need to be a teacher anymore, so why did I burden myself with those ungrateful, untalented pests? Thankfully, my mind instantly provided me with an answer: Because of those few that weren't ingrates and actually showed promise in the field of potions. Somehow they were worth it.

"Fuck it. The patio's too big now."

I rolled my eyes as Harry more or less threw his sketching book on the coffee table and grabbed for the remote in order to switch on the TV.

"It doesn't disturb you, does it?" he asked, craning his neck to look in my direction. He gestured vaguely at the TV set. "The sound, I mean."

"If you do not turn up the volume any more, no", I answered and went back to my essays and searched for the one by Jasmine Winter. She was a potions genius and I needed motivation if I wanted to stay sane during the course of grading these things. Honestly. At times I had the feeling that mold was growing on my soul*. And the students were to be faulted for it entirely, totally, utterly.

Some minutes of absolute bliss passed, until I heard something growl on the television. I averted my look in Harry's direction and saw something rather hairy run through the scene.

"What are you watching?" I asked, intrigued.

"Charmed."

I rolled my eyes and cleared my throat. Harry chuckled.

"It's about these three sisters that found out they are witches and have to fight evil. Monsters and ghosts and stuff."

"Indeed."

I wrinkled my forehead and went back to my essays. This couldn't be of any less interest to me. A few moments later though, I could not hold myself back anymore.

"This is _not_ what a wendigo looks like."

"The muggles don't know that, do they?" Harry said indulgently.

"You cannot tell me that they did not do any research when writing this … program."

"I'm sure they did. But to them it's all not real. Fiction. There is no right way those creatures have to look. Not to them."

"But they portray witches in a wrong way, too."

"Sev. Leave it. I'm watching this, no matter what."

I blinked silently. Not because he basically told me to shut up, but because of the abbreviation of my name. I mouthed the syllable soundlessly and wondered when I had become important enough for him to give me a nickname.

But as nice as this familiarity was, I could not concentrate on my work as long as Harry insisted on watching this _Charmed_. My gaze kept wandering in the direction of the screen as if there was something endlessly interesting about these so called witches.

When the episode ended and the first scene of another one started, I gave it up. I put my work aside and joined Harry on the couch, drawing his legs over my lap, so that we could both sit on it comfortably.

"Not one word."

"Of course not."

* * *

Once again I found myself immersed in nervousness. This seemed to have become the theme of my life like "How soon is now" was the one of that dunderheaded TV series Harry wouldn't stop watching. I hated it of course. My disposition as well as _Charmed_. One more, one less. There was no need to clarify which was which.

As it was, Harry and I were continually approaching the enemy's lair. It seemed rather normal on the outside. Red brick stone, white picket fence. The perfect cover for the horrors that resided within.

"You're thinking stupid thoughts again."

"You seem certain of that assessment", I tried to evade Harry's statement.

"Because I have spent enough time with you to know all about the cobwebs in your brain."

He bumped his shoulder into mine.

"What cobwebs are you referring to?"

I bumped back. I couldn't allow him to have something over me.

"You know … the ones that prevent you from thinking clearly and are making you nervous all over. At least, I hope it's cobwebs. The only other explanation would be that you're getting senile."

"I assure you, I have merely lived through about a third of a wizard's average lifespan." I held his gaze for a second. "Brat."

"I know. But now we're at their doorstep and I'm going to make our presence known."

"I knew that. You did not achieve a distraction of that high a level."

Upon the event of Harry ringing the bell, a crash could be heard from the inside off the house which was followed by the admonishing tones of a female voice. My dread was not put at ease by this, but rather intensified. When the door was yanked open at last, I found myself face to face with a rosy cheeked Hermione and a frowning Ronald Weasley.

"Harry, Severus! Punctual as always. Well. One of you at least."

Harry stuck out his tongue and stompingly entered the house. Hermione followed him immediately. Weasley and I locked eyes. His gaze was made of a hard steel-blue quality that seemed to try and judge me. His hair, as red as it had always been, was tamed and cut short, unlike during some of his Hogwarts years. Since he was as tall as me, I felt I had to put some extra effort into looking unapproachable and looming.

After a second, the spell was suddenly broken and Weasley gestured with his head to come inside. I steeled myself internally and stepped inside. The sound of the door closing behind me seemed unnecessarily loud.

"You can hang your coat just there", Weasley said and pointed at a coat hanger that was situated beside a tall mirror.

"Thank you", I replied and he trod into the adjourning room.

As I hung up my coat and, after seeing Harry's boots between an abundance of heels and sandals, slipped out of my shoes, I took in the atmosphere of the home I had just stepped into. It had a certain weasleyesque quality to it, which was displayed in the earthy colors and the spicy scent that wafted in my direction. Hermione had added touches of her own, of course. One of the doors that led from the hallway I was standing in obviously led to a library, as I could see rows of books peeking through the gap between the door and its frame.

The carpet under my sock clad feet was soft, but I still felt oddly vulnerable without my shoes on. I just had to believe that there would be no need to storm out of the house in the next few hours. The drama of my departure would seriously be stunted, if I had to stop and probably even crouch down to put my shoes on. When I entered the kitchen, I just came in time to see Hermione place plates on the already set table. The meal consisted of green beans and medallions of pork wrapped in bacon. Weasley put a basket of, what looked to be like, home-made bread on the table.

"Sit down, sit down", Hermione urged and everybody did as they were told.

When we were all seated, we began to eat without much of a ceremony. The food was delicious and I decided to be a good guest for once in my life and point it out. Harry snorted beside me and whispered: "Did it hurt a lot to say that out loud?" I sent him a stony expression, which just made him wink at me.

"Leave him alone, Harry. We all know it was agony for him."

My head whipped around in Hermione's direction. Why was I here again?

"I despise you all." Maybe I should not have said that. It only sent Hermione and Harry into fits of laughter. Weasley just looked confused, puzzled, bewildered.

"Well … however much it hurt him to say it, he's still right. It's delicious as always, Ron", Hermione said finally and I guessed it was my turn to look confused.

"You made this?"

Weasley nodded. "You know how much my mum likes to cook. She kind of decided that she had to pass it on to one of her children. I was the only one that didn't practically run from her, when she got into teaching mode."

I made some kind of noise at that. And it did of course sound nothing like "huh". It didn't.

Weasley shifted in his seat, looking vaguely uncomfortable. I could relate to that. The only ones at ease in the room were Harry and Hermione. I envied them. My only remaining hope consisted of maybe not displaying my growing tenseness. I did my best at looking the part, at least.

"I heard one of your students tried something funny today?" Hermione queried, her voice sounding far to chipper for the mood that seemed to have spread around the room.

"The term 'funny' obviously lies in the eye of the beholder." I paused to take a sip of my drink. Wine. Somebody must have told her I preferred it. I looked gratefully at Harry which made him draw up his eyebrows in confusion. Thank Merlin, he was not capable of reading my mind. I knew of course that the thought was idiotic to the point of irrelevance, but Harry seemed to be attuned to my whims most of the time. I shook my head and continued. "Clearance Quigley tried to prank me."

I saw Weasley's lips twitching. Of course he thought it was funny. Amusing, humorous and hilarious even.

"Quigley … he's a Gryffindor, right? The brother of Mina?"

"Yes. He had to be a Gryffindor. Nobody else would have done something equally stupid."

Ah. A glare. Obviously I still had it in me. Hermione only rolled her eyes while Harry opted to ignore me.

"Yes, naturally. Gryffindors are the epitome of stupidity et cetera, et cetera. Now spill." She leaned forward. "What did he try to do to you."

"You seem to like the idea of people doing things to me", I said, suddenly finding it very easy to slip into our usual banter. It was also worth the cow eyed stare it drew out of Weasley.

"Exactly. I _have_ been trying to convince Harry to tape the two of you while doing the nasty, but he _just_ won't budge."

I raised an eyebrow and looked inquiringly at my partner, lover, spouse.

"What? She doesn't get to see you like that", he said after swallowing his mouthful. "Only I'm allowed, you know."

"Well, I wish I would have known that before."

He narrowed his eyes. "What."

"Well, I have a standing order from Mundungus Fletcher. He expects me to deliver at least ten tapes", I deadpanned and there was silence for a second or two and I suddenly understood the reference regarding crickets Harry had made a few weeks ago.

"Oh, snap!" Hermione cried at last and she and Harry erupted into laughter. He punched me in the shoulder.

"I sometimes still forget that you are capable of making jokes like that."

"I didn't know he joked. Period", Weasley announced which got him a frustrated sigh from his wife.

"All those years of listening to me, telling you how different Severus is once you get to know him and you're still surprised?"

Weasley shrugged. "It's a thing you only believe when you experience it."

"It must be. If not you're obviously getting senile. Already."

The joke was lost on all but Harry and me and we shared a smile.

"About that prank now …"

"Yes", I sighed. "He spelled my seat to turn the one to touch it blue."

"Well, that's not very original", Weasley said while munching on a slice of bread.

"It is for a second year", Hermione said. "You only learn spells like that in third year."

"However impressive his spellwork might have been, he is still serving detention at this hour", I said and took a look at my wristwatch. "And he will be doing so for at least another three hours."

"Man, I'm just glad you never found out that I was the one that put those fish eggs in your pouch in fifth year", Weasley chimed in.

"Oh, but I did know." I remembered the day vividly. The second my hand met the eggs and a wetly cold feeling raced through my whole arm I had locked eyes with Weasley and I had known. "Why do you think your hand was stuck to the table for three hours after that?" What a fine revenge that had been. Weasley had missed his quidditch practice and it took Flitwick a lengthy amount of time to figure out how to release him. In the end, Weasley's whole arm had been numb and his palm was very sore from the spells.

Right at this moment he was gaping at me. "You … that was you?"

I inclined my head.

That … that …", he sputtered and pointed his fork at me. "You pranked me back?" His face suddenly split into a terrific grin. "He pranked me back! Awesome!"

And that seemed to be the way I "charmed" my way into Weasley's heart. If I had known it would only take some punishment from me, I would gladly have mentioned it sooner.

After that, the whole affair of dinner at the Weasley-Granger household became a fraction more bearable. Weasley did not think I would kill him anytime soon anymore and I did at least not feel as constricted in my own body. I hesitated to actually call it 'nice'. There was a line and it needed to be drawn. Still, after helping with the wash-up of the dishes I found myself playing chess with Weasley. We were two moves away from a stale-mate. My opponent had recognized it too, if I read his frowning face correctly.

"You know, this is the first decent chess game I have had in a while."

"It is for me as well", I conceded and leaned back in my chair a little.

Weasley moved his bishop and shook his head a little. "You are not as uptight as I remember you."

"Maybe your memory is incorrect?"

"No, he's right!" Harry suddenly joined our conversation from where he was sitting on the green couch with Hermione. "I was wondering about that myself. You are a lot more open than I thought you could be. And you always answer my questions, even if they are personal." He wrinkled his nose thoughtfully.

I did not want to say it, but the thought had come to me as well. I knew myself and even in my youth I had had trouble to be honest and open with others. Lily had often told me I was an enigma. Now I was nothing of the likes. It might take Harry yet some time to figure me out completely, but I had no doubt that he would be able to come very close to it at some point.

"Yes, well …"

All of our heads simultaneously turned to Hermione.

"I might have something to do with that."

"How so?" I said in a menacing tone.

"There might be some relaxing potion in the vial of the Excaecare I give you every time you go and meet Harry. Maybe."

I blinked. Then the realization forced itself through my system along with a sense of indignation and fury. She had dared to drug me? I clenched my fists at my side and rose from my seat. A relaxing potion was untraceable. If you mixed it with another one, it smelled or tasted no different. I could not have known. The certainty of this offered no solace to me and I felt my toes curl as I tried to stay calm and demand an explanation. There was no need for words on my side though, since Hermione had stood up as well and raised her hands in an admonishing manner.

"Don't be mad, Severus. I didn't mean any harm."

"That makes it alright, then", I proclaimed in a scathing tone.

"No, it doesn't. But I won't apologize." She tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "You wouldn't be here if it weren't for the combination of both potions. Don't you see? You were so nervous about that first date, I just wanted to help you along so that you wouldn't stand in your own way. Is that so wrong?"

"You had no right." I stalked into her direction, since that was where the door was situated.

"Maybe not. But it did the trick anyway." She approached my cautiously and tightly gripped my forearms while catching my gaze with hers. "It helped. It made you less tense. More open."

Vulnerable. Defenseless. Damageable.

"That might be true. But the fact still remains that I trusted you and you used that trust for your own purposes."

"That's where you got it wrong." She emphasized this by putting more pressure in her grip. Her amber eyes were staring intently into mine, almost forcing me to try and understand. "I did it for your purpose. And Harry's. You wanted this to work. As did I. Our motivations were the same."

"And doesn't the potion stop working after taking it regularly for two or three weeks?"

I stared at Weasley.

"What?" he cried outraged. "I am an auror now! I know things!"

Hermione giggled. I looked back at her again. "He's right. You take the potion at least two times a week now. The relaxing potion must have lost its effect some time ago."

I shook my head, before I stepped back from Hermione and around her in order to leave the room. I went through the entrance hall in a rush and opened the front door. I direly needed fresh air and so I inhaled it greedily once I was outside. Night had fallen and the sky was clear. I could see the stars above me as I folded my arms before my chest. I swallowed thickly. This ease with Harry had been manufactured. Unreal. Artificial. But it had been one of the things I had marveled at. I had thought it resembled a significant bond between us. A sign of how well we fit each other. Even then it had seemed stupidly romantic to me and now it did even more so. How could I not have seen this coming? Nothing in life was that easy. I should have known better and usually I did. But this blind spot I had regarding Harry seemed to stretch over more than one aspect of our relationship.

"Severus?"

I did not turn around, as I heard Harry's voice behind me. His steps sounded hesitant, but the arms that loped themselves around my waist were not. I felt him press his forehead between my shoulder blades and closed my eyes tightly against the onslaught of affection that rushed through my body and finally settled in my heart.

"You know that it doesn't matter, right?"

"Doesn't it?"

"No. Why should it?"

I snorted unhappily. "I wasn't myself at those first dates we had."

His hands fisted themselves into my pullover vest. "Maybe that was for the best."

I drew my breath in sharply as hurt rushed through me. Was this how he really thought about it? Was this unreal dream of mine finally going to end? I tensed and tried to loosen his hold on me so that I could detach myself from him, but Harry just tightened his hold.

"No, you misunderstand me", Harry said with an urgent tone of voice.

"Clarify."

He stepped around me, while firmly keeping me engulfed in his arms. "You know how closed off you can be. This first date might have been a disaster had it not been for you being so giving." He liked his lips. "Just remember you comforting me, when I became all maudlin and sullen. Or when you decided to tell me about your background on our way home. No way you would have done that without the relaxing potion." Never once did he look away from me during his little speech. His expression was so intent. So earnest. Still, I remained unsure. "I'm not saying it would not have worked out between us in the end. Maybe. But … I gotta be honest with you. When I was trying to make my mind up on the next day, you know, whether to see you again or not … It helped. The memories of you trying to do right by me." He put his hands in my cheeks. "It helped. It made me start falling in love with you. But you heard and also know about what Ron said. There's no way you're not immune to the relaxing potion now. Whatever you're doing, feeling and thinking now is all you. You may have changed a bit, but it's still you. Understand?"

I was still me. Since when did being me include being hesitant and shy as well as vindictive and cruel? Since when did I enjoy the company of people half my age? What was responsible for me playing chess with Weasley and making jokes full of innuendos? And how had I fallen in love so quickly?

I leaned down and kissed the corner of Harry's mouth, before turning around and going back inside.

Payback was going to be delicious.

 

* * *

 **Chapter 5**  
One, one, one being _  
_

* * *

 

The first time Harry and I had sex, I topped. Not, because I am that emotionally stunted (though I am), but because it just took place like that. It was the natural course of action, because it felt right that way.

It did not happen in the aftermath of a love declaration or a grand gesture. We were simply at my home in Hogwarts. The second the door slammed shut behind us, Harry was on me, with me, around me and was trying to kiss my soul out of my body. I still feel like he succeeded. His hands touched me everywhere they could reach. Made me ache, need, _feel_ so much. I reciprocated his motions eagerly, maybe even with a measure of desperation at the sudden urgency to be closer. To see and to touch and experience all of Harry.

Despite his forwardness in his letter, Harry and I had not once before stepped over the invisible lines made of kissing and clothes. I had certainly thought about it and sometimes wondered how it would happen. If our dynamics would fit together as well as our personalities did in everyday life. I should not have worried. Harry seemed to be the one good thing life had bestowed upon me. My reward for years of suffering. I should not have questioned him being made for me. Me being made for him. We for each other. The way of expressing what I felt was irrelevant, though. I would never voice it this way. But thinking it, surely, was allowed.

His hands were warm on my touch-starved body as they slipped beneath my shirt after having pulled it out of my pants with a few nimble tugs. I let my eyes slip half shut and pressed eagerly into his touch. My mouth opened to let out noiseless puffs of air as he dug his fingers along the muscles beside my spine. A shudder ran through me and I simply had to lean forward to capture his lips in a passionate kiss that involved biting and sucking and resulted in puffy lips on Harry's side.

"God, why did we wait so long to do this?" Harry moaned as I turned my attentions to his neck where I savored the salty flavor of his skin and did my best to leave a mark of my having touched this spot there. Harry was warm, so warm. He was practically a furnace against my usually relatively cool skin. I needed more of it, so I practically tore his vest and shirt over his head and made sure to lose mine quickly as well in order to press our naked chests together. The broad expanse of his skin against mine was enough to make me shudder and moan, groan, gasp. Harry's chest was covered in a smattering of coarse hair that rubbed just so deliciously against my own, much straighter one. I could not resist, but had to run my fingers through it. For some reason I had expected him to have a smooth chest. As to why, I did not know. How could he ever look different than this?

"I hope the hair doesn't bother you", he said and tweaked my right nipple. My breath hitched and I had to clear my throat before answering him.

"Nothing about your body could ever bother me."

Harry grinned, but there was something soft around his eyes, too.

"Why, Severus. That was almost romantic."

Which was when he ducked his head and liked the nipple he had already abused earlier. I grabbed his shoulders to steady me, while I let myself enjoy his ministrations. Lust pulsed through me and I had to bite my lip to cut off a cry when he rubbed his stubbly cheek against my nipple. I still must have let out some kind of noise, because Harry chuckled.

"Sensitive?"

"More", I only said and Harry seemed only too happy to give it to me. More, always more.

When he finally moved on to my trousers my chest ached and was red, but I did not care. When he made to kneel before me, possibly in order to fellate me, I pulled him up by his arms and ushered him into my bedroom while alternately kissing and biting his neck, once even going as far as pinning him to the next wall, because I felt the uncontrollable need to kiss him.

Once we reached the bed, Harry sat down on it and I opened his belt and trousers and relieved him of them. Harry thanked me with a guttural moan. His penis had made a tent in his black briefs and I could not resist, but had to rub my cheek against the warm clothed length of it. I opened Harry's legs which dangled over the side of the bed and knelt between them. Harry fell back on the covers and obediently lifted his hips as I started to tug on the last garment he wore.

I lost no time. Not after seeing his penis swollen and already leaking for me. I immediately dipped my head down and breathed in his musky scent. Harry whimpered from somewhere above me and I took hold of his shaft to lick the length of it with a broad swipe of my tongue. Next was the head, which I gifted with a special kind of attention that left Harry's breathing ragged and shallow. For a second I lifted my eyes up to Harry, but I only saw his arched neck and the hands he had fisted into the sheets.

"Se-, Severus …" he gasped as I hummed around his penis, to signal that I was listening.

"Fuck, come up here. I need you! I need you inside of me!"

I let go of his shaft with a deliberate slowness and cupped, instead of complying with his request, his balls in my hand and rolled them softly between my fingers.

"Stop teasing."

"But I want to."

Harry huffed and chuckled slowly. "You can tease all you want later. I have wanted you like this for so long. I can't wait anymore."

I placed an open-mouthed kiss on his right thigh and lifted up his legs. Harry shifted up a little bit, until he could place the soles of his feet on the bed. Meanwhile I reached for the tube of lube inside of my drawer and coated my fingers with it. Then I put my clean hand on Harry's right upper leg and leant my cheek on his knee, as I finally touched my fingers to his entrance and started the delicious work of opening him up for me. Seeing him like that made my own penis strain in my pants. Even more so, as Harry started with the soft noises he seemed to make during sex. He was warm and snug around my fingers as I gradually loosened him, trying different angles until I found his prostate. I knew the exact moment it happened, since he let out a tell-tale cry and pushed himself down on my fingers. He kept whimpering and muttering softly until I decided that he was ready for me.

"Hurry up, Severus", he whispered and I had to restrain myself in order not to jump out of my trousers and briefs.

When I was finally naked, Harry had moved onto his knees on the bedspread and looked at me with emerald fire in his eyes. He reached out his hand for me and I took it with mine.

"Sit against the headboard", he requested and I did as he asked. I put a pillow behind me and Harry climbed over my legs. He settled a leg on each side of my tights, then gripped my penis at its base and settled himself slowly on it. My mouth opened in a silent moan. My eyes never left his as we gradually connected. Became one, one, one being. My lips trembled and Harry cupped my face with his hands and kissed me softly.

"I…" I whispered, but couldn't form the sentence.

"Shush", he said against my lips and lifted himself a few inches.

That was when we started the old dance. We did so slowly, at our own pace, wanting it to last, but also feeling frantic, because we were finally doing this and wanted to experience this to its fullest. At least, that was how I felt. I clung to Harry, my arms around him, stroking his back, biting a nipple, whenever it came near my mouth and now and then nuzzling my nose against his throat. Harry had buried his hands in my hair and was continually gasping in my ear. I grasped one of his hands in mine and brought it to my lips to kiss its palm and moan against it as Harry rolled his hips in a particularly pleasant way. The pleasure was delicious and I loved everything we did together that night. The act was beautiful and the way we fit together was, too. There was nothing about it that I would have changed and for that I was eternally grateful. There would be screw-ups and misunderstandings later on, of that I had no doubt. But this first time we had with each other was as perfect as I could have imagined.

Afterwards we lay together, Harry draped on my chest. His heart against my side. I could feel his warm breath puffing against my skin and tightened my hold around his shoulders.

"You smell like it, you know", he said softly, as if speaking loudly would have ruined the moment.

"Like what exactly?" I queried, kissing the crown of his head.

"Like Hermione's potion. After the part of you was put in." He breathed in deeply. "Like herbs and like that shower gel you use. Like Severus."

I could only nod and smile, as the scent of oranges and him lulled me into slumber.

* * *

"What do you think about doing away with the houses?"

Harry opened his eyes. He had been dozing with his head in my lap, while I had been attempting to read a potions journal. His eyes narrowed and he sat up with a sigh. I almost regretted asking him then. But I needed him to tell me that my idea was not a _completely_ foolish one. If I could convince him of the merit I believed it had, I could maybe also do so with the school board.

"Okay. Start at the beginning."

I put away my journal and wove my fingers together in my lap.

"You are not at school anymore, so you cannot know this, but … The situation for the Slytherins has become even worse than it was in your time here."

His lips thinned. "So this is only about your snakes?"

I shake my head. "No. Not only. I will not lie to you. They are the reason I started thinking about it again."

"Again."

Sometimes he is too perceptive, insightful, intuitive.

"When I was in school, I always dreamed of a Hogwarts without houses. Were you were liked or hated because of what you did, not because of some character traits you were supposed to have."

I shook my head and knitted my eyebrows together, trying to formulate this in a cohesive way.

"Do you really think it is a good idea to sort students that are not even remotely done with growing into themselves into houses that are known only for four features of character? And four like loyalty, intellect, bravery and cunning?"

"I liked being in Gryffindor", he said simply.

"And I hated being in Slytherin. I may be cunning, but that's not all I am. Or do you think I can be reduced to that one little thing."

"No, I don't think that. But … aren't the houses supposed to be the place, were you can meet other people like yourself? And I always thought the sorting was like … like the hat seeing what your potential is and trying to put you were you can develop it best."

"So, you think all Slytherins are put there for their potential of becoming a death-eater or corrupt businessman?"

Harry flinched, but I was not sorry. I was tired of people glorifying the house system, simply because they never bothered to question tradition. Also, I wanted Harry to be on my side.

"Blaise is one of your friends now, isn't he?"

"Yes …"

"And isn't he _loyal_ to you? Has he ever told anybody that he is working with you? No, he hasn't even though it would boost business, would it not? Isn't he good at making deals and running the firm, because he is _intelligent_? And didn't it take a lot of _bravery_ to approach you after the war and apologize?"

He bit his lip and fumbled with the hem of his sweater.

"I get it, it's just …"

"I'm just so tired of it. Those children are pressed into roles and expectations they have to live up to, simply because they are wearing a certain kind of color. I've already had two suicide attempts this year, Harry."

I looked him in the eye as his face morphed into a stricken expression.

"Two of my snakes tried to kill themselves, because they couldn't bear it anymore and I have told Minerva and she is not doing anything, but getting them a counselor."

I let out a deep breath and pressed my eyes shut. Telling Harry made it even more real and horrible. Nobody had succeeded in killing themselves, yet. The only reason was the monitoring spell I had put on all of my Slytherins. They did not know about it and it wasn't exactly legal, but I did not care. Not when it was the only thing that prevented them from dying.

"Severus, I'm so sorry."

I opened my eyes and he looked so sincere, but he still did not _comprehend_ …

"Don't you see? Counseling does not help. It does not stop the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and even the Hufflepuffs to torment the Slytherins. If it goes on like this, who can blame them if they form another dark alliance. If they are cast out, what can they do but rely on themselves and swear they will show them just _how_ dark they can be just to make them sorry?"

I stood up and started pacing, too agitated to sit still anymore.

"Like you did."

"Precisely. I am not saying that this will prevent a war from ever happening again, except …"

"Except that maybe you do."

Harry stood up and looked around the room as if searching for something. "It's hard. Imagining a Hogwarts without houses, but … you have some good points. What would you suggest?"

"Doing it as the muggles do. Sorting them according to age. Year one and two would live in Hufflepuff, three and four in the dungeons, five and six in Ravenclaw and seven in Gryffindor."

Harry raised an eyebrow. A silent question.

"The Hufflepuff dormitory is the most comfortable. It will soothe the new children. When they are thirteen they will think the dungeons are, and I cannot believe I am using this word, 'cool'. The Ravenclaw common room has a library, which will be convenient when they are studying for OWLs at fifteen and the Gryffindor tower has the most space, which will be a status symbol for the seventh years."

Harry was smiling softly. I felt the need to preserve my reputation.

"Not that I care about such things."

He laughed.

"You can't fool me. Too late, dearie. I'm seeing right through you. You've put a lot of thought into this."

I could not help, but be hopeful.

"So, if I went to the school board with a presentation the great Harry Potter support my suggestion?"

"He would."

* * *

In the end it was Lily that made everything seem clear. It was Lily that gave me courage. It was Lily that managed to give me the last push. How she was still capable of doing that … Some people just had strength that lasted beyond life.

It happened on a rather quiet day. Harry was supposed to come over in about an hour and the potion was sitting on the kitchen counter. Taunting me with its small frame and big content. I saw it sitting there in the corner of my eye and it wasn't the first time I had doubts about drinking it. It was about fear as it was so often with me. Even after those months I had spent with Harry, some part of me still was unsure as to how much of my affection for him would bleed over to my real, non-forgetting self. Though I almost felt like the past did not matter anymore. Harry and I had built something new out of nothing but distain and improbability. I should not have been doubtful. I should have had faith. Again, those were not my strong points.

It was then that I sprang up from my seat at the kitchen table and, on a whim, took out the year book of my final year at Hogwarts again. This time, I did not allow the dread that I always felt and that in the past had always made me hesitate and stop, hinder me and for the first time I opened the book on the page of Lily Evans.

And she was beautiful. I had not forgotten that. Seeing her ever smiling, ever waving picture made me feel nostalgic. Seeing the mischievous and shrewd look in her eyes let me sigh and smile fondly. But it did not induce the horrendous guilt I had always felt in the last twenty odd years when looking at a photograph of her. Oh, I still felt like I had done wrong by her and this feeling would not ever go away, since it was true. But finally, I did not sense any tears stinging somewhere in my eyes. When I looked at her, I saw Harry. And I felt grateful for her having married James Potter. Without his, admittedly small, part in this I would not be in a relationship with Harry now. He would not exist. Bastard that Potter had been, this was the one thing he had ever gotten right.

I traced a finger over her hair when I saw it and froze. In the corner of the page, somebody had written something. It was a very small script and I had to lift the book a little higher in order to decipher it. What I saw left me, and what a cliché that was, breathless.

_You can be whatever you want to be. I have to believe that. And so do you. It's never too late to do the right thing. Try to be happy, okay?_

_\- Lily_

And there they were. The tears. But this time I welcomed them.

* * *

So. This was it. I had not taken the potion. It still sat on the counter, reminding me of this fact every second. I should have simply thrown it away, but for some unfathomable reason I could not bring myself to do so. And the times where I had to be hard on myself where over. If I did not want spill the amber contents of the little flask down a drain I did not have to do so. So, while the potion was taunting me, I also felt a thrum of satisfaction inside of me. I could be lenient with myself at times. If I wanted to. And Merlin, did I want to. Still, I felt nervous, expectant, anxious. Harry had said he would come here at five. It was half past that time, which meant he would be here soon. I did not even attempt to convince myself he could be punctual anymore. I simply added a half hour to whichever time he told me he would come and expect him then. It was easier for everybody involved. Granger called it the "Half-Potter-Hour". I did not.

I looked up when I heard somebody turn the doorknob and steeled myself. I had tried to imagine every way this meeting could possibly turn out. Me being unable to come to terms with all the facts I now knew about Harry. The old and the new. Me trying to overcome this predicament and failing. But never once had I dared to imagine what if …

"I hate it all! I hate it all to damn hell and back and why, fucking _why_ , did I ever want to fucking draw as a fucking profession?"

Harry made his way in, more or less stomping over the carpet and throwing his bag on the floor and missing the glass table by inches. His face was an ugly mask of rage and his hair stood on end – even more so than usual.

"Grah! I mean this … I … damn the stupid Andersons! Couldn't they just want a normal house like any other normal fucking person? Nooo, they want a house that talks to them. Through a big massive ugly chiseled gargoyle face in the foyer. Who wants something like that? Who? Who, I ask you? This is like … the most ridiculous thing ever. And have I mentioned they want the gargoyle to sound like Matthew MacFadyen? So, yeah, I kind of understand that, because Matthew MacFadyen has an awesome voice, but they want to desecrate that by putting it in an ugly gargoyle's head! I don't want to be responsible for something like that! They can't make me! And why are you staring at me like that?"

Harry's breath came out in shallow pants as he pinned me with his stare. The rant I had just heard should have made me think of all the bad things I associated with him. All the times he had yelled at me and called _me_ ridiculous. And I could bring those instances to mind, if I wanted to. But all I could envision was a hideous gargoyle quoting lines from "Pride and Prejudice" in the voice of Matthew MacFadyen.

It was all very anticlimactic.

I might as well just have taken the potion for all the difference I felt. Harry was there. I remembered all we ever said to each other as much as any person could over the long span of time we had known each other, but … it simply did not matter. This man before me was my partner. And I …

"I love you."

Harry blinked. His cheeks flushed in a way that did not flatter his complexion at all, but the fact remained and the words lingered in the air. Harry cleared his throat.

"That's what you think after I used the word "fucking" like fifty times just now?"

I nodded carefully. "Yes. Your admittedly frequent usage of the word did not change my feelings for you."

"B-but …"

"Do not expect to hear it every day. I am not going to indulge you in that. I trust that you are able to remember and I only need to remind you once in a while", I said in a haughty way, but I tried to keep my expression warm.

Harry liked his lips and chuckled.

"Well … I love you, too. And I don't trust you to remember. I'm going to tell you all the _fucking_ time now!"

I raised an eyebrow. "I was told the expression did not mean anything when uttered during intercourse."

Harry snorted with mirth and dropped beside me on the couch. He took my arm and put it around his shoulders, before he snuggled into my chest. "I'm going to tell you even if it isn't sexy time."

"Indeed."

He kissed my chin and regarded me with kind of a contented expression.

"Not that I mind that you said the words, but … can I ask you what exactly brought this on?"

I did not hesitate to say the words. I could only hope Harry would understand my actions.

"I did not take the potion today."

Harry made a surprised sound and scooted back a small fraction, probably to be able to look me in the face properly. A small smile had made the way to his lips and I felt the knot in my chest ease instantly.

"You did? Sev, this is huge! So it's not any different for you? I mean, you still feel the same way about me?"

"I told you I loved you, did I not?"

His smile turned smug and I did not suppress the urge to hit him over the head.

"Domestic violence is a crime, you know?" he said, but did not wipe the daft grin off his face.

But there was one last matter I wished to discuss, before I could relax completely. I knew of course that I had no right to pressure him into anything, but now that he had seen that stopping the intake of the potion had had no effect on my feelings for him, maybe he would consider …

"Harry, do you think you could stop taking the potion as well?" I despised the unsure sound of my voice, but there was nothing to be done about it. "I understand that you must be afraid to do so. Still, I thought that the fact that I still care about you after I ceased taking it may be able to encourage you to at least think about the possibility."

I had not dared to look upon his face as I held my little speech. Now that I turned my head back into his direction I did not see what I expected. Harry was biting his lip, as though he was trying not to laugh, and at the same time he had a sheepish look about him.

"Actually, Sev … I kind of … only took it on our first date." He closed his eyes and scrunched up his face. Waiting for an explosion.

I blinked. What?

"Excuse me?"

"I only took it once." Harry's voice rose and octave. Or two. He scrambled of the couch and started pacing.

"I thought 'to hell with it', you know? If I'm going to date Severus Snape I might as well do it properly. No offence to Hermione and her invention, but the potion is kind of a cheat and I didn't want to do that. I wanted the real thing from day one."

"So, you say until now I haven't loved you properly?" Dear anger, did you have to visit me now?

"No!" He sucked in breath between his teeth. "Well, yes. Kinda. And you can't tell me, you don't think the same. You couldn't have been sure. Why else did you wait until today to tell me?"

He had me there, did he not?

"So, I just didn't take it anymore. And I love you too?"

I huffed, but mulled it over in my head. This was why he had seemed wary at our second date. Why he sometimes mentioned things, he could not have remembered. In hindsight it made sense. And I did not really have a reason to argue, did I? Taking the potion for the extended period of time I had, had been cowardly. Feelings, other than contempt and self-hatred still made me feel as though I was walking over a minefield.

"I guess, I will forgive you."

"Really?"

"Yes. But to do so, I will require some "sexy time" as you call it. Also, you will have to remind me of your love for me while doing that. Repeatedly."

He more or less skipped over to my side and pulled me up. Then he put his arms around my neck.

"I thought it didn't count, when I said it during sex?"

"Would you _mean_ it, though? Would _you_ make it count?"

"Always."

_Forever. For good._


End file.
